


Gathering Dwarrows

by TanukiMara



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bonding, Completely Fucking With the storyline, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, New Shire, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 62,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanukiMara/pseuds/TanukiMara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Bilbo Baggins stared irritably at the thick silver bands before him, thinking them more like shackles without chains than the symbols of love and maturity they were supposed to be. He did not want to be bonded, did not want a husband or wife, and did not want the responsibility that came with these damn things.'</p><p>Completely ignores the storyline, you've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devious Dwarrows

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is completely different from the book. The Shire is located near Erebor, the dragon hasn't attacked and it's set when they're all a bit younger.
> 
> Also, Hobbits and Dwarrows have the same lifespan. Because I can.
> 
> Dwarrows is Tolkien's preferred spelling of the plural of dwarf. I really like the word, so I decided to use it.
> 
> I am so sorry for completely screwing up the Tolkien's universe.

The day a Hobbit receives their bonding bracelets is the greatest day of their lives.

 

In most cases.

 

Bilbo Baggins stared irritably at the thick silver bands before him, thinking them more like shackles without chains than the symbols of love and maturity they were supposed to be. He did not want to be bonded, did not want a husband or wife, and did not want the responsibility that came with these damn things.

 

All in all, Bilbo Baggins wanted to be left alone.

 

But alas, it just was not respectable for a young hobbit to ignore his bonding. He was supposed to wear them with pride, showing that he was ready to be courted. He was supposed to join the flocks of young hobbit lads and lasses that had been gifted with their bonding bracelets as well and head to the great markets for the First Gathering.

 

Bilbo huffed again before reaching for the first bracelet irritably. His Uncle Bingo had sent them over with a messenger, who probably didn’t even know what he carried. It was a very private thing, donning your bracelets for the first time. As the silver clicked snug around Bilbo’s wrist he could feel his freedom slipping away slowly. He settled the second on his wrist, the silver slowly warming up.

 

Grumbling to himself he stood, shoving his chair under the table irritably. He knew that as a Baggins of Bag End he should not be acting so childishly, but he couldn’t help it. His father would turn in his grave to hear of Bilbo acting like this; rest his soul, though his mother would have expected it.

 

Bilbo thought bitterly of his cousin Falco who had probably received his bracelets today as well. He was no doubt ecstatic, eager to attend Gatherings, find a lad or lass and make his father proud.

 

Sure enough, a sharp knock sounded at the door not five minutes later. Bilbo sighed and put on a happy face as he opened the door. Falco was bouncing on his doorstep, but he was not alone. Their cousin Drogo was beside him, staring at his wrists – and new bonding bracelets – in wonder.

 

“Bilbo! Isn’t it wonderful?!” Falco gushed. “Our First Gathering is tonight! What are you gonna wear? Who are you hoping to dance with? What are-”

 

“Falco, you’re giving me a headache,” Bilbo interrupted as he rubbed his forehead. Falco fell silent with a blush and Drogo peered up at Bilbo.

 

“Bilbo, why did it take so long for you to get your bracelets?” Drogo asked shamelessly. Falco stared at Drogo in shock at his rude question. Bilbo was used to Drogo’s forwardness though.

 

“Because my parents are dead,” he responded, as rudely as he could. Drogo’s ears enflamed and he stared at his feet in embarrassment. Bilbo sighed and gestured them inside. “After my parents died no one knew who was to take responsibility of me. I was old enough to live on my own, but I wasn’t at my maturity yet. So they all kind of forgot about me. But then when Falco here got older I think it reminded Uncle Bingo that I was of a similar age.”

 

“Sorry,” Drogo mumbled to the floor. Bilbo smiled and pulled him towards the kitchen.

 

“Come on, let’s eat and then you can tell me what you’re gonna wear tonight to get Primula to look at you.”

 

“Wh- Bilbo! You said you wouldn’t tell!”

 

“I already knew, Drogo, it’s kind of obvious.”

 

“I-It’s not that bad, is it Falco?”

 

“Ehhh just a little.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The Gathering was in full swing by the time Bilbo dragged himself into the large hall. Situated besides the great markets the hall was massive, especially by hobbit standings. It was built by men, long ago, specifically on the request of the Shire council.

 

Gatherings were held there every week end, the hall filling with music, food and chatter as hobbits mingled and mixed. It wasn’t only hobbits, of course. The Shire was located in the shadow of the large mountain and dwarf kingdom therein, Erebor. Long ago when hobbits were first looking to settle somewhere the dwarrows had offered them the land beside the mountain – fertile and lush it was perfect for growing food and other such necessitates, but the dwarrows lacked the skills to do so.

 

The elves of Imladris offered the hobbits land as well, a few days ride from the valley, but the dwarrows had won out. The combined offer of beautiful lands, nearby humans and elves to trade with as well as the protection and trade from the dwarrows themselves had been too great an offer to refuse, and the Shire had been born.

 

As the dwarrows were of similar heights and lifespans to the hobbits interbreeding was a common thing. Dwarrows who had just reached their maturity joined the hobbits in the hall, male and female alike.

 

Bilbo ignored them all as he headed straight for the long tables of food. He scooped up a cup of punch and a finger sandwich, slipping straight past the hobbit lad who was leering at him without a word.

 

He moved to the end of the table and saw trouble in the form of a hobbit lass batting her eyelashes at him. She was beautiful, but Bilbo was not tempted. He nodded politely to her before moving behind the table and sinking to the ground to hide.

 

To his great surprise, four dwarflings were curled up under the table, stuffing their faces with stolen food. He stared at them in surprise for a moment until the youngest noticed him. The dwarfling was tiny, surely not old enough to be running around unwatched.

 

“Ah!” he squeaked, turning as red as his hair. “Oh no!”

 

“What, Gimli?” the blond one – and the eldest, by the looks of it – turned to his companion and saw Bilbo. His mouth, and the food in it, dropped open and out. “Oh no…”

 

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?!” Bilbo hissed. The remaining two dwarrows turned to see what was distracting them and dropped their food guiltily. The brunet one grabbed the blond’s arm, and Bilbo could see the family resemblance between them. The last dwarfling, his hair a mix of red and blond looked like he was about to cry.

 

“Oh don’t tell anyone, mister, please!” the blond begged, throwing himself forward into Bilbo’s lap. His hair was long, pulled back and braided. Silver clasps capped the braids. “We just wanted to see what it was all like!”

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bilbo muttered as the dwarfling clung to him, his companions joining him. He found himself drowning in a pile of dwarrows, all staring at him with pleading expressions. “Stop that! Oh, I mean it now, you should go right home!”

 

“We can’t go home now,” the strawberry blond pointed out. His hair looked like someone had placed a bowl on his head and cut around it. “They’ve shut the gates.”

 

“Ori’s right!” the brunet chirped. His hair was the same as the blond’s, but as dark as the other’s was light. “We might as well stay here!”

 

Bilbo cursed and crawled back out from under the table. A quick glance around the hall showed that Ori was right. The Dwarrows were gone, leaving only hobbits mingling. Erebor shut their gates as the night wore on, secretively guarding their treasures.

 

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Bilbo ducked back under the table and stared at the dwarrows staring at him. “What were you thinking? What are you to do now?”

 

“Well…” the blond frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“They shut the hall soon,” Bilbo explained, trying not to look surprised as Ori crawled into his lap. “Where are you to go?”

 

“We’ll… we’ll just…” the blond blinked at the brunet. “Kíli?”

 

“Um…I don’t know, Fíli…” Kíli whispered. Bilbo groaned and rested his forehead against Ori’s.

 

“Alright you foolish dwarrows,” Bilbo growled. “You’ll come with me. I’ll take you home at first light, but until then you will _behave,_ do you hear me?”

 

“Oh thank you, mister!” Kíli shouted as he joined Ori in Bilbo’s lap. Gimli was staring up at him with wide eyes, almost in awe and Fíli grinned.

 

“My name is Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo explained. “You should know this if you’re to spend the night at Bag End.”

 

“We get to spend a night in a hobbit hole? Really?” Fíli asked. At Bilbo’s nod he squealed with excitement.

 

“Alright then,” Bilbo set the dwarrows in his lap back onto the ground and crawled out. They followed him, and Bilbo bent to scoop up Gimli who looked the youngest and the most tired. “Stick close.”

 

Fíli and Kíli both grabbed Ori by the legs and hoisted him up to the table, and the young dwarfling grabbed a plate of sandwiches. Bilbo rolled his eyes as the lads quickly divided them before trailing after Bilbo.

 

Ignoring the strange looks Bilbo received from the few remaining hobbits they made their way out of the hall and through the empty markets. Bilbo hurried along, smiling when little Ori took his hand. They made their way quickly to Bagshot row, the dwarrows staring around in wonder.

 

Once the familiar green door was before Bilbo he released Ori’s hand to turn the brass handle and push it open. He herded Ori, Fíli and Kíli inside before following with Gimli.

 

“Wow!” Fíli whispered as he looked around. “Why are the ceilings so high?”

 

“We had many big folk visit often,” Bilbo explained as he closed the door. “The ceilings were built to accommodate for such.”

 

“I like this place,” Kíli said happily as he scraped the mud off of his shoes onto a box in the hall.

 

“That was my mother’s glory box,” Bilbo snapped as he hurried to the dwarfling. “Can you please not do that!”

 

Kíli looked properly chastised as he removed his shoes. Bilbo set Gimli down so he could do the same, though the young dwarf was swaying on his feet. Ori and Fíli dumped their shoes in a pile before racing off to explore the hole.

 

“The rooms go on and on!” Fíli shouted from somewhere down the guest corridor. “There’s no end to them!”

 

“Of course there is,” Bilbo muttered crossly as he straightened their shoes – nasty things, shoes – and watched as Kíli raced off to join the others. “Now then, let’s get you to bed, little one.”

 

Gimli nodded as he grabbed Bilbo’s hand, tugging. Bilbo picked him up, chuckling as the ginger haired dwarf buried his face in Bilbo’s neck. Bilbo hummed as he made his way towards his own bedroom, preparing to settle the young ones in the next rooms over.

 

Ori met them halfway, grabbing Bilbo’s hand while the other rubbed his own eyes sleepily.  Bilbo chuckled and opened up a bedroom, showing them the inside.

 

“This is my room,” he explained. He left the door open and made his way to the next room over. “This is where you two will be.”

 

Ori scrambled into the room, leaping onto the large soft bed happily. Gimli squirmed until Bilbo set him down, laughing as he tottered over to join Ori. Ori pulled the younger dwarf up onto the bed and then smiled sweetly at Bilbo.

 

“Will you tuck us in please, Mr Baggins?” Ori asked as he cuddled up to Gimli. Bilbo nodded and crossed to the bed, pulling the blankets up to cover them.

 

“There you go, little ones,” Bilbo murmured, watching as they snuggled into the blanket. His breath caught in his throat as he smoothed a hand over Ori’s hair, as though these were his own children he was tucking in. “I’m in the next room if you need anything.”

 

“Thank you…” Gimli whispered as he clung to Ori. Ori was already drifting off and Bilbo quickly moved from the room.

 

“Kíli!” Bilbo whispered as he made his way down the corridors. “Fíli! Where are you?”

 

“Here, Mr Boggins!”

 

The boys peeked from around a corner and Bilbo beckoned them over. He showed them his room, just as he had with Ori and Gimli, and then showed them their room. Both boys scrambled into the bed, bouncing up and down slightly. Bilbo sighed and shook his head, tucking the little bundles of excitement in and smoothing a hand over their hair.

 

“Someone must be very worried about you,” Bilbo murmured as they curled up. “I’m sure they’ll alert the guard that you’re missing in the morning, and when I take you up you will be returned to your families.”

 

The boys weren’t listening, they were already dozing. Bilbo smiled and moved from the room, blowing out the candles around the area. He retired to his own bed happily, the dwarrows exhausting him.

 

That was not how he expected his First Gathering to go, but it was by far better than anticipated. Instead of gathering courtship offers, he’d gathered dwarrows, which was much nicer by Bilbo’s standards.

 

Much nicer indeed.


	2. Discourteous Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've got so many books detailing the behind the scenes of The Hobbit movie, and in it there's pictures of Dwalin and Balin younger. Dwalin has a mohawk (seen in the movie briefly) which I thought was too badass not to include in this.
> 
> Still no idea where this story is going.

Frantic pounding on his front door roused Bilbo from his sleep. He stumbled out of bed, hastily grabbing his robe and shrugging it on. A quick glance into both rooms showed the dwarrows were fast asleep, snoring like boars. Bilbo shook his head fondly before hurrying to the front door. He swung it open irritably. It was not yet dawn, so it had better be an emergency.

 

On his doorstep stood a dwarf, dishevelled and angry, his blue eyes never stilling for a moment. Bilbo simply stood and took in the sight of him, from his regal furred cloak to his long dark tresses, pushed back from his face and braided. His beard was clipped short, an oddity for a dwarf, but he did not need it, as he wore power on his shoulders like a cape. His face was handsome, extremely so, and Bilbo had never found dwarrows overly attractive.

 

“Hobbit, have you see four dwarflings?” the dwarf snapped as he gripped the frame of the door, obviously out of breath. Looking past him Bilbo could see other dwarrows moving from hobbit hole to hobbit hole in the night, rousing the occupants. “Speak, it is important!”

 

“Hush, you’ll wake them!” Bilbo snapped, forgetting himself for a moment. “Yes, they’re here, I was-”

 

“Where?” the dwarf pushed past Bilbo into the hole, looking around irritably. “Where are you keeping them?”

 

“I am not _keeping_ them,” Bilbo protested. “They’re sleeping!”

 

“What are your plans then?” the dwarf had given up on the corridors and rooms, turning back to Bilbo. His eyes flickered from Bilbo’s face down his body. “Why would you steal four dwarrows, what purpose have you?”

 

“I didn’t steal them!” Bilbo spluttered, tugging his robe tighter around himself under the scrutiny. “I found them! If you would just let me explain-”

 

“Uncle?”

 

Bilbo whirled to find Kili standing behind them, rubbing an eye sleepily and staring up at the dwarf before him. The dwarf, his uncle, swept towards him, taking the small dwarfling into his arms and holding him tight.

 

“Kili! You’re alright, thank Mahal.”

 

“Kili, this is your uncle?” Bilbo asked, hovering nearby. Kili nodded sleepily, nuzzling into the dwarf’s neck.

 

“Mmhmm, Uncle Thorin,” Kili mumbled and Bilbo felt his stomach drop.

 

Thorin, son of Thrain, Prince Under the Mountain stood with his nephew in his arms, looking down his nose at Bilbo like he was less than nothing. That explained why there was a Shire-wide search for these dwarflings. Fili and Kili were the Prince’s nephews, his heirs. Thorin had probably been frantic searching for them.

 

“Uncle, I’m sleepy,” Kili mumbled as he squirmed in Thorin’s arms. “Can Mr Boggins put me back to bed now?”

 

“No, Kili, we must go home,” Thorin said as he tightened his hold on the squirming dwarfling. His eyes kept drifting back to Bilbo, and down to his robe. Bilbo didn’t see why, it was a perfectly respectable article of clothing! “Where is Fili?”

 

“No!” Kili squirmed harder, kicking at his uncle. “I wanna stay here with Mr Boggins!”

 

“Kili, this is not up for discussion.”

 

“No! No!”

 

“Ow, damn it, Kili, not the hair!”

 

“Put me down! Put me down now!”

 

“Kili,” Bilbo sighed as he placed a hand on the dwarfling’s back, soothing him. “Please, listen to um, your uncle.”

 

“You don’t want us to stay?” Kili asked, staring at Bilbo with tear-filled eyes. Bilbo felt his heart slowly breaking, and he shook his head quickly.

 

“No, of course I’d like you to stay,” and also to go back to bed. “But your uncle makes the rules.”

 

Thorin nodded sharply and Kili seemed to deflate in his arms. He released the lock of Thorin’s hair that he had tortured mercilessly and pouted. Bilbo smiled at the dwarfling before glancing up at Thorin. Thorin was staring straight back at him, eyes sharp and sending jolts of warmth straight through Bilbo.

 

“I’ll get the others,” Bilbo muttered, eager to escape that gaze. He hurried off down the halls, grabbing Fili first. The boy muttered in his sleep at being removed from the warm bed but easily clung to Bilbo. Bilbo sighed and made his way back to the entrance hall.

 

Thorin had company now, three other dwarrows. The first had silver hair, intricately tied up in braids around his face. The second was tall, taller even than Thorin, with a thick beard and a dark Mohawk on his head. The sides of his crown that were shaven were covered in tattoos. The third dwarf had a massive ginger beard, layered strangely. He was twirling his axe nervously, muttering to himself.

 

As soon as Bilbo joined them with Fili the Mohawked one strode forward to take him without a word. Bilbo’s arms felt strangely empty without the small dwarf in them. The ginger and silver dwarrows moved forward, and Bilbo could see from their eyes how frantic they were.

 

“Where’s my son?” the ginger one asked. “Where’s Gimli?”

 

“This way,” Bilbo said with a deep sigh, leading the dwarrows to the bedroom. “Ori too.”

 

The two dwarrows swept into the room, gathering up the dwarflings quickly. Bilbo left them to it, heading back to the entrance hall.

 

Thorin broke off his conversation immediately at the sight of him. Fili was still fast asleep in the tall dwarf’s arms, but Kili was awake and watching him. Bilbo offered the dwarfling a smile which was returned with a beaming grin.

 

“Bye, Mr Boggins,” Kili chanted as he waved a hand at Bilbo. “We’ll come visit real soon!”

 

Thorin looked like he had swallowed a lemon at that and Bilbo chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I’d like that, Kili, I really would.”

 

The other dwarrows hurried past with their cargo and Bilbo watched them go with a sad sigh. Light was breaking in the distance, and Bilbo longed to return to bed. Thorin was the last to leave, looking back at Bilbo with a strange look his eyes. His eyes remained on Bilbo’s face for a moment before darting to the hand that was still in his hair. Bilbo’s eyes followed the dwarf’s and he found himself staring at his bonding bracelet. When he looked back to the door, Thorin was gone.

 

Shaking off the confusion Bilbo closed the front door and leaned against it with a sigh. What a draining morning. Bilbo shuffled forward, passing by the now empty spare room and heading to his own again. He returned to his now cold bed and sunk under the covers with a groan.

 

A flash of blue raced through his mind and Bilbo groaned, rolling over. What a time to finally find an attraction to someone. And a _dwarf_ of all people! Not just any dwarf, but a prince!

 

Bilbo tossed and turned in the bed for a while before giving up on sleep and rising again. He made his bed and dressed slowly before reorganizing the guest rooms. In the room the young princes had occupied he found a single silver bead which he rolled between his fingers with a smile before tucking into the pocket of his waistcoat.

 

Once the rooms were straightened Bilbo made his way to the kitchen, glumly preparing a simple breakfast of plain bread and honey, too lazy to create anything more complicated. He ate in silence, wishing that there were four little dwarrows with him, eating heartily and throwing food at each other.

 

Bilbo grumbled his way through the meal, cleaning up quickly and preparing for the day. He headed outside, poking at his vegetable garden, annoyed to see that it was perfectly kept – nothing for him to do. The Gamgees really were perfect gardeners.

 

Bilbo slumped onto the front bench of Bag End with a sigh, pulling out his pipe irritably. He packed the bowl and lit up using the box of matches he kept in a small box under the bench for this exact reason. Puffing at the pipweed he gazed up into the clear sky, the bright blue above nowhere near the colour haunting his mind, much too light.

 

Bilbo sighed out the smoke, leaning his head back against the bench. He had never had trouble filling his days before. As a Gentlehobbit he had no need to work, living off a great family inheritance and monthly allowance from his mother’s Took relatives.

 

But today all he felt like doing was moping. Bilbo had always been fond of children, whether they be dwarrows, fauntlings, elflings or children. His cousins had plenty of fauntlings between them, and at every family gathering Bilbo would end up swamped by them, happily drowning in tiny hobbits as he told them great made-up tales to keep them occupied.

 

Bilbo loved telling them tales so much so that he had begun to write his own story books, detailing all his silly tales to be handed out to his family. Several of the Took children already had copies, and often could be found in various parts of the Shire sharing the tales with other children.

 

Bilbo mumbled softly to himself, eyes closed, already picturing his next book. Perhaps something with a fearsome creature? A great boar? A bal-rog? A dragon even? Hmm… perhaps a brave prince off to rescue a princess? Yes… the prince should have long dark hair, blue piercing eyes, handsome features and a deep, delicious voice that sends shivers racing down the spine of anyone who heard…

 

And why did it have to be a princess he rescued? Perhaps a simple soul, a hobbit even? With caramel curls and matching eyes? And why a female? What if the prince preferred males? So the handsome, dark dwarf prince, the young, bright hobbit boy… The character just needed a name…

  
“Bilbo!”

 

Well, that would be a bit absurd, putting his own name in the story, but if it fitted…

 

“Bilbo! Mister Bilbo!”

 

Bilbo blinked as he realized that he wasn’t hearing things. Someone was calling his name. He tilted his head forward and stared down at the path before him.

 

To his great pleasure, a familiar little dwarf stood there. Ori was right at the gate, grinning at him. Bilbo shot to his feet, dropping his pipe onto the bench and grinning widely.

 

“Ori!” he cried, delighted. He swept down to the gate, swinging it open. As soon as he did so Ori shot forward, wrapping his arms around Bilbo’s legs. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I’m here to visit, Mister Bilbo!” Ori explained with a laugh. “My brother brought me!”

 

It was then that Bilbo noticed another dwarf was at the gate. He was of a similar age to Bilbo, younger than the dwarf who had picked the dwarfling up earlier that morn. His hair was dark brown, and ridiculously intricate, pulled up into three massive peaks, his eyebrows braided in. His beard mirrored it into three prongs, each with a metal clasp. He wore heavy iron bonding bracelets around his wrists.

 

“Hello,” Bilbo greeted him with a smile. “I’m Bilbo.”

 

“Yes, I know,” the dwarf responded with a laugh. “Ori won’t shut up about you.”

 

“Nori!” Ori whirled to glare at his brother, Nori apparently. “Not true!”

 

“Oh, really?” Nori arched an eyebrow, making his hair shift. “So it hasn’t been ‘Mister Bilbo has the softest beds. Mister Bilbo lives in a hole in the ground. Mister Bilbo’s hole is a maze. Mister Bilbo-‘”

 

“Nori!” Ori threw himself through the gates, slamming into his brother’s legs and pounding his fists at them. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

 

Bilbo chuckled and shook his head as Nori swept Ori up into the air, waving him around until the boy was shrieking and laughing in pleasure. Once he was back on his feet Ori wobbled but up the path towards Bilbo, smiling happily.

 

“Can I spend time with you today, Mister Bilbo?” Ori asked, gazing up at Bilbo with large, dark eyes. “Dori’s busy with work and Nori’s supposed to watch me, but I wanna spend time with you again!”

 

“Only if it’s alright with Nori,” Bilbo said with a chuckle as he bent down and swung Ori up onto his hip. He looked at Nori who was watching him with a sly smirk. “Is it?”

 

“It works greatly in my favour,” Nori said. “I have a couple of people to see about a couple of things, things which Ori shouldn’t be exposed to for a couple of years yet, if you get my meaning…”

 

Bilbo felt his ears heat up as Nori’s eyes dragged down his body before the dwarf gave Ori a wave. He winked at Bilbo before sauntering off down Bagshot row, whistling loudly.

 

Bilbo shook his head at the crudeness of the dwarf before beaming at Ori who was clinging to his neck.

 

“Come now, Ori, it’s time for lunch,” Bilbo said, his stomach rumbling loudly. He had skipped both second breakfast and elevesies this morning, and he was not going to skip another meal.

 

Ori squeaked happily, bouncing on Bilbo’s hip as the hobbit carried him inside, closing the door behind him.

 

“So what shall we have, hmm?” Bilbo asked as he set Ori down onto the table. “Sandwiches? A meat platter? Soup?”

 

“Sandwiches!” Ori cheered as he waved his arms in the air. He seemed to remember his manners at the last minute. “Please, Mister Bilbo.”

 

“Just Bilbo,” Bilbo said as he bustled around, starting to collect the items he needed to make sandwiches. Ori hopped off the table and began to explore the kitchen, poking his large nose into cupboards and trunks, his curiosity overwhelming his manners.

 

Bilbo didn’t mind and couldn’t help but smile widely when Ori found one of his books and sat down, leafing through it. Within minutes he was clinging to the book, reading it intently. He barely noticed when Bilbo sat a plate of sandwiches next to him, but moments later a hand fumbled down to grab one.

 

Bilbo finished his own lunch off and began to tidy up, Ori still engrossed in the book. He was reading it fine, despite his young age, and Bilbo was impressed. Once he was done tidying the kitchen he briefly stepped out to his study, rummaging through the books.

 

He located a few of his earlier works, ones he had copied many times over. He slid them into a small leather satchel and carried it back out to the kitchen. Ori was nearing the end of the short story, his eyes still glued to the page. Bilbo doubted even the royal twins could break his concentration right now.

 

Bilbo settled in with his pipe, watching the boy with a smile. Ori was smart. He was quiet, bookish and adorable. Bilbo was quite happy to watch the dwarf, and if at the same time he got someone to road-test his stories on, all the better.

 

“Mister Bilbo, who wrote this?” Ori asked as he finally shut the book, gazing up at Bilbo with wide eyes. Bilbo smiled down at him and set his pipe aside.

 

“I did, Ori,” Bilbo’s smile widened as Ori scrambled to his feet, mouth open. “Did you enjoy it?”

 

“I did!” Ori breathed as he scrambled up onto Bilbo’s lap. “It was wonderful! Do you have any more?”

 

“I do,” Bilbo said with a nod to the satchel. “You can have these ones if you like.”

 

“I can?” Ori bounced excitedly. “Really, Mister Bilbo?!”

 

“Really, Ori,” Bilbo smiled and set the boy back on his feet. “Now, how would you like to learn how to play conkers? I warn you, I play a mean game.”

 

Hours later when Nori came to collect his younger brother Ori was clutching his new satchel over his shoulder and a pair of new conkers in his hand. Nori took his other hand once Ori was done hugging Bilbo and led him down the road, winking once more at Bilbo, which earned him a dark blush.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister Bilbo!” Ori shouted as he was led away. “Bye!”

 

“I hope so, Ori,” Bilbo sighed as he leant against the door of his hole. “I hope so.”


	3. Dancing Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My auto-correct keeps changing 'Kili' to 'Kill' OTL
> 
> Here, have another chapter while I go figure out where the hell this story is even going.

It became a regular occurrence. Little Ori would totter down Bagshot row with Nori, who would leave for his ‘business’ with a wink and usually a crude comment towards Bilbo. Bilbo would take Ori inside, feed him, and replace any books the boy had finished. His collection was running low though – Ori was racing through everything he had written fast, and Bilbo knew the little dwarfling would be disappointed to learn soon enough he had nothing left to read.

 

Bilbo found it easy to spend his days writing at his desk while Ori lay sprawled out on the rug behind him, reading through books, pouring over maps and fiddling with his conkers. They stopped for lunch and afternoon tea, Ori happy to try anything Bilbo set before him as long as it wasn’t green.

 

Their routine continued for a week until one morning Ori didn’t come. Bilbo waited outside, puffing on his pipe, but the dwarrows didn’t appear. As the sun shifted higher in the sky Bilbo accepted that today he would be alone, and retreated to his hole, disappointment filling his stomach.

 

Hours later, as he sat at his desk writing, a plate of biscuits beside him, he was interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. Pausing, his quill hovering over his inkwell, Bilbo stared up at the window before him. The sun was still bright, but lowering towards the horizon. Who would be visiting at this time, when most hobbits were enjoying afternoon tea?

 

Bilbo sighed as the knocks sounded again, louder this time. He set his quill aside and left his work for now, making his way through the hole towards the door. He only hoped it wasn’t his cousin, Otho, here to scold him for missing his second Gathering. He hadn’t the patience to suffer through such an event, though he knew it reflected badly upon his image.

 

Instead, Bilbo was shocked to find a certain dwarf prince on his doorstep, shuffling from foot to foot and looking mightily annoyed. Bilbo gaped up at Thorin, wondering what on Middle Earth the dwarf was doing here.

 

“C-Can I help you, sire?” Bilbo stuttered out after a moment. Thorin scowled at him before shuffling again, staring down at his large boots.

 

“Yes,” Thorin muttered, clearing his throat. “I have spoken with my nephews, and they explained how you found them, and took care of them after the Great Gates had been closed.”

 

“Yes,” Bilbo smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “I take it they’ve learnt not to sneak out any more?”

 

“On the contrary,” Thorin grunted, finally lifting his gaze to meet Bilbo’s. Bilbo swallowed around the lump in his throat as those incredible eyes stared into his. “They’ve tried to sneak back out to find you every night since. Young Gimli too, according to Gloin.”

 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo lifted a hand to his mouth, hiding his smile. He didn’t think Thorin would appreciate his mirth at the situation. Thorin seemed to sense it anyway and scowled heavily.

 

“Yes, and young Ori doesn’t help the situation,” Thorin grunted. “Bragging about his time spent here, and waving his books under their noses.”

 

Bilbo giggled at the image, earning an even fiercer look from Thorin.

 

“I came to apologize,” Thorin growled the words out as though they physically caused him pain. “For my behaviour that morning. I was wrong to accuse you of dwarfnapping, wrong to storm into your home uninvited and wrong for the way I spoke to you. It is obvious from the way my nephews and their friends speak that you are perfectly capable of taking care of them.”

 

Bilbo stared up at the dwarf in wonder. He never expected this, Thorin Oakenshield himself apologizing to him!

 

“Um, right, well, don’t worry about it,” Bilbo couldn’t quite string a sentence together, not with those eyes staring at him. “Really, it’s um… I can understand, with the situation, how you could have thought… um, apology accepted… I guess.”

 

“Good,” Thorin nodded, satisfied. “They’ll not give you trouble, or I’ll hear about it. Nori shall bring them all over together.”

 

“What?” Bilbo stood up straight as Thorin bowed ever so slightly to him. “What do you mean Nori will bring them over together?!”

 

“Good day, Master Baggins,” Thorin said as he turned on his heel. Bilbo gaped after the prince as he quickly strode from the hill, not quite sure what had just happened.

 

Still reeling from the encounter with the prince he didn’t even see his cousin until the younger hobbit barrelled into him, grabbing his shirt and crinkling it awfully.

 

“Bilbo!” Drogo cried, shaking him slightly. “Bilbo, Primula asked me to escort her tonight! Can you believe it, Bilbo?!”

 

“No,” Bilbo murmured, eyes still straining for the retreating figure of the dwarf prince. “I scarcely do.”

 

“What do I wear, Bilbo? What are you going to wear?” Drogo chattered excitedly as he pushed past Bilbo into the hole. “You can’t skip again, you’ll get in so much trouble.”

 

“I know,” Bilbo tore himself away from the doorway, closing the door and following his cousin down towards his bedroom. “I’ll go, but I’m not going to dance with anyone.”

 

“You _have_ to dance, Bilbo!” Drogo gave him a reproachful look as he began to tear through Bilbo’s closet. “It’s expected.”

 

“And when do I ever do anything expected?” Bilbo asked grumpily as he sat on his bed. Drogo laughed loudly, tossing a golden waistcoat out to Bilbo.

 

“You? Do the unexpected?” he asked. “You’re Bilbo Baggins, a Baggins of Bag End! You’re as respectable as they come! You never have any adventures or do anything unexpected, and rightly so!”

 

Bilbo sulked on the bed as Drogo terrorized his closet, gathering an outfit for Bilbo to wear that night and ‘borrowing’ a cloak for himself. Drogo was right though. Despite Bilbo’s mother being a Took, and a daughter of Old Took at that, Bilbo took after his father. He played out his adventures through his books, ignoring the soft stirs of longing that rose in him, as adventuring was not a thing hobbits did, especially Bagginses.

 

“Oh do cheer up, Bilbo,” Drogo begged as he made his way to the door. “Promise me you won’t be such a sour lemon tonight!”

 

“I won’t be,” Bilbo muttered as he herded his cousin out.

 

“You promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“Bilbo, you promised!”

 

Bilbo sighed as Drogo hissed in his ear and slid up beside him. Bilbo was sulking at the back of the Hall, eyeing the dancing couples with distaste. The chaperones floating around were giving him disapproving looks, probably over his lack of socializing, but Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“Primula is waiting, Drogo,” Bilbo reminded him. “Don’t leave her waiting or another may move in.”

 

“Not so,” Drogo said, swelling with pride. “She’s removed her right bracelet!”

 

Bilbo blinked in astonishment at his cousin who was grinning sheepishly. Removing the right bonding bracelet meant you were entering into a serious courtship and would not take any other offers, even something as simple as dancing.

 

“Already?” Bilbo asked. Drogo nodded, blushing darkly.

  
“Well, she _is_ a Brandybuck,” he pointed out. Bilbo shuddered at that.

 

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” Bilbo muttered. “I still sad you’re mad to get involved in that family.”

 

“Oh hush,” Drogo chastised him, eyes not losing their sparkle in the slightest. “She’s perfect in every way.”

 

“Perfectly mad,” Bilbo mumbled, pushing Drogo forward. “Go on. Don’t waste your time with me.”

 

“Promise you won’t sulk here all night, cousin,” Drogo begged. “Please?”

 

“I promise,” Bilbo said with a roll of his eyes. “Now go!”

 

As Drogo vanished into the crowd Bilbo leant back against the wall behind him, watching the hobbits and dwarrows mingle before him. He had no desire to join them in the slightest. He had learnt to dance like all of his cousins, but there was no way he was going to go make a fool of himself in front of half the Shire and half of Erebor.

 

“Not your type of party then?”

 

Bilbo jumped slightly at the voice beside his ear, looking back to find Nori grinning at him. He flushed darkly, turning to look back at the dancers.

  
“No, it’s not,” Bilbo responded. “I have no desire to court or be courted.”

 

“But why?” Nori laughed as he moved to stand beside Bilbo, much too close for comfort. “Courting can be great fun. A dally with a lad or a lass can be just the thing to take your mind off of your troubles.”

 

“I have no troubles that my mind needs to be taken off of,” Bilbo said with a scowl. “So I suggest you try your luck elsewhere, Master Dwarf.”

 

“So formal,” Nori wasn’t dissuaded, in fact he leaned in even closer, eyes tracing Bilbo’s features. “And here I thought we were getting to know each other quite well.”

 

Bilbo opened his mouth to respond but his eyes caught on something across the room. A tall dwarf stood by the front doors, a full head over the hobbits around him. He was one of the ones who had come to collect the young princes that morning, the one with the Mohawk. He was glancing around the room, eyes sweeping over everything, before he turned back to the doors.

 

Bilbo’s breath caught as Thorin stepped through the doors. He was glancing around with disinterest, despite the giggles and whispers going up from all around him. Several young hobbit lasses began to approach, not at all put off by the hard glare in the Prince’s throat. From across the room Bilbo watched as the Prince’s lips moved, and suddenly he had a wide circle of space around him, the hobbits either scowling in annoyance or saddened in disappointment.

 

“Ah, his majesty graces us with his presence,” Nori laughed as he straightened. He looked down at Bilbo and paused, his eyes darting from Bilbo to Thorin who was making his way through the room. “Oh. I see. It’s not that you’re not interested in courting, it’s that you have a specific set interest already.”

 

“What?” Bilbo whirled to face Nori. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Thorin!” Nori laughed. He had taken a step away from Bilbo now, all his flirting and teasing gone. “You’re smitten!”

 

“ _Smitten?_ With _Thorin_?!” Bilbo repeated, incredulous. “Are you mad?”

 

“It’s written all over your face, little hobbit,” Nori teased. Bilbo flushed, shaking his head vehemently.

 

“There is no way!” Bilbo snapped, waving his hands. “No way would I ever, _ever,_ be interested in the pig-headed, uncharming, discourteous and all together rude Prince Thorin Oakenshield! Not now! Not ever! Even if we were the last two people on Middle Earth!”

 

“Glad to hear you think so highly of me, Master Baggins. May I ask what I did to offend you so?”

 

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he felt the colour drain from his face. Nori was barely containing his amusement before him, and it was with a stomach full of dread that Bilbo turned.

 

Thorin did not look amused in the slightest. He was standing before Bilbo, arms crossed over his furred cloak, and a scowl marring his face. To his right stood the mohawked dwarf who was quite obviously trying to hold in his laughter, golden bonding bracelets catching the light. On his left was an unfamiliar dwarf, his dark hair in two braids, squashed by a ridiculous hat that had no place in the Hall, his copper bonding bracelets polished to a high shine.

 

“Dwalin,” Nori stepped past Bilbo to grasp hands with the mohawked dwarf. He then nodded to the other one. “Bofur.”

 

“Who’s your friend, Nori?” Bofur asked, eyes crinkling with laughter. Bilbo stared down at his feet, his face heating up. Thorin had yet to take his eyes off of him.

 

“This is Bilbo Baggins,” Nori said, slinging an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “And he’s not technically _my_ friend, more little Ori’s.”

 

“Ah, you’re Ori’s new hero!” Bofur exclaimed in sudden realization. “I’ve heard all ‘bout you!”

 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo could only mumble as he shuffled under Nori’s arm. He peered up at the dwarf shyly. “Hello.”

 

Bilbo’s eyes shifted to Thorin and away again quickly as he saw that the prince was staring at Nori’s arm around him, and the look in his eyes was darker and angrier than before. Perhaps he didn’t want Bilbo to make friends with his companions.

 

“Um, if you’ll excuse me,” Bilbo mumbled, trying to slip away. Nori’s arm tightened, pulling him back to the dwarf’s side.

 

“Oh, don’t be so shy,” Nori said with a grin. “We’re not going to bite. Well, not unless that’s what you’d like…”

 

“You two courtin’, then?” Dwalin asked, looking Bilbo over from head to toe. “He’s not yer usual type, Nori.”

 

“We are _not_ courting!” Bilbo spluttered, finally able to shrug Nori’s arm off. “Nori just doesn’t know how to take rejection!”

 

“Well, if you’re not courtin’ then he’s available,” Bofur laughed, sweeping in to replace Nori’s arm with his own. “So how ‘bout a dance, Mister Bilbo?”

 

“Wha- no, I don’t dance!” Bilbo squeaked, twisting quickly from Bofur’s arm. He turned to face the two dwarrows leering at him, hands held up before him as he slowly backed away. “Thank you for your kind consideration, but I’m really just not interested in courting right now, thank you.”

 

With a soft _thump_ Bilbo hit something and he looked up and back. To his embarrassment Thorin was staring down at him, eyebrows drawn down darkly. Bilbo scrambled forward, slipping behind Bofur and Nori as he watched Thorin with wide eyes.

 

“S-Sorry!” he stuttered. “I’m sorry, I’m just going to, uh, go now.”

 

Bilbo took off before they could stop him, hurrying across the room to where Falco was chatting to a pretty dwarf lass. He hovered nearby, ignoring the annoyed look he got from Falco. He waved frantically behind the dwarf’s back until Falco sighed and excused himself, crossing to join him.

 

“ _What?_ ” he hissed as soon as he joined Bilbo. “I was busy!”

 

“It can wait,” Bilbo said as he grabbed his cousin’s sleeve. “Don’t leave me alone!”

 

“Did a Brandybuck ask you to dance?” Falco asked, looking deeply unimpressed. “Bilbo, they may be a bit odd but they’re not that bad-”

 

“It wasn’t a Brandybuck,” Bilbo interrupted irritably. “Look, I just-”

 

“Falco?”

 

At the dwarf lass’s call Falco clapped Bilbo on the shoulder with a shrug before turning back to the dwarf. Bilbo watched as they crossed to the dance floor helplessly, shuffling from foot to foot.

 

He risked a glance back to the corner of the room he had abandoned and felt panic rise in him as he realized he could only see Nori, Bofur and Dwalin. Thorin was gone. But where did he-

 

“You never answered my question.”

 

Bilbo shrieked, earning him several strange looks from the people around him. He turned to face Thorin, his stomach twisting unpleasantly.

 

“Wh-What do you mean?” Bilbo stuttered. “What question?”

 

“What did I do to offend you so?” Thorin asked. He took a step closer to Bilbo, eyes searching his face. Bilbo swallowed, staring up at the prince.

 

“Y-You haven’t done anything…” Bilbo whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said… Nori just… Nori just aggravated me.”

 

“Hm,” Thorin’s eyes were unreadable as the stared into Bilbo’s. Bilbo couldn’t move, couldn’t _breathe,_ not with Thorin this close. He could almost feel the heat thrumming off of the prince. “Dance with me.”

 

Bilbo blinked in surprise and the next thing he knew he was being swept onto the dance floor. He opened his mouth to protest but then Thorin’s arms were tight around him and all conscious thought flew out the window. There was only the weight of the arms around him, the heat of the body before him, those impossible to read blue eyes on his face and the room spinning behind them. Bilbo could hear hushed murmurs all around him, but he was entirely focused on the prince before him, unable to tear his eyes away from Thorin’s face.

 

All too soon the dance ended, Thorin releasing Bilbo from his arms and taking his hand. He bowed over the hand, eyes never leaving Bilbo’s face, before he turned and strode from the dance floor.

 

Which Bilbo now realized was empty.

 

Hobbits and dwarrows lined the edges of it, eyes darting from Thorin to Bilbo and back again. As Thorin reached the doors of the Hall the other dwarrows in the room began to move, making their way towards the doors. A quick glance at the large clock showed that the Great Gates would be closing soon.

 

Thorin paused at the door, looking over his shoulder to Bilbo. Bilbo felt his face heat up and he quickly looked down at his feet. As soon as the last dwarrows left the Hall, the doors closing behind them, the hobbits began to chatter loudly, pouring back onto the dance floor. Falco slammed into Bilbo’s side, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him slightly.

  
“What was _that?_ ” he asked with a wide grin. “Bilbo, you danced! With Prince Thorin!”

 

“I did, didn’t I?” Bilbo mumbled, staring into his cousin’s eyes. “Oh my…”

 

“Come on,” Falco said as he slung an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Ignoring the questions flying at them, Falco led Bilbo from the Hall, chattering on to his silent older cousin. Bilbo let himself be dragged along, brain still slowly processing everything that had happened.

 

Because he himself wasn’t quite sure what _had_ happened.


	4. Disobedient Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori was always a delight to look after, but then, compared to the Princelings an orc would be a delight to look after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Ori can just take all my feels, forever.

Bilbo could hear them before they arrived the next morning.

 

Ori always arrived in an orderly fashion, book bag tucked under his arm, sweet smile on his face and occasionally a plate of biscuits or sweets.

 

However, Fili and Kili seemed determined to announce to the entire Shire that they were visiting.

 

Bilbo rested his head against his desk for a moment, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come. He could hear the boys shouting outside, at the end of Bagshot Row by the sounds of it, and a louder, deeper voice shouting back at them. Judging by the accent, Nori was taking a day off and Dwalin was bringing them by.

 

Bilbo dragged himself to the door, opening it and waiting patiently by his bench. Moments later they appeared, Fili dragging a poor dishevelled Ori by the arm, Kili shrieking behind him as he threw various items he picked up at his brother. Dwalin looked at the end of his patience, little Gimli seated upon his shoulders and grasping his hair.

 

“Mr. Hobbit,” he greeted as he kicked the gate open, causing Bilbo to wince. “I leave them to you.”

 

With that he shoved the youngest dwarf into his arms before vanishing under a barrage of sticks, stones and pinecones.

 

Bilbo hefted Gimli up onto his hip and frowned down at the boys before him. Kili now had a firm hold of Fili’s braids and was tugging, earning him shouts of annoyance from his brother. Ori was crouched on the ground, his hands covering his head.

 

“Ori,” Bilbo smiled at the young dwarf. “Will you please take Gimli inside?”

 

Ori nodded frantically and hurried forward to take the young dwarfling. He rushed inside, eager to be away from the noisy princes.

 

Bilbo closed the door behind them and turned back to the princes, raising his eyebrows as he saw that Fili had thrown Kili to the ground and was seated upon his back.

 

“Are you _quite_ done?” Bilbo asked, using a tone of voice he learnt from the Old Took himself. It seemed to work, as Fili shot to his feet, dusting himself off. Kili was less quick to react, stumbling up and scowling at his brother. “Now then. While in my home, you will _behave._ You will _not_ break anything, you will _not_ hurt each other and you will _not_ shout. If you do not follow these rules, I will send you straight back to Erebor, and forbid you from visiting again, do you understand?”

 

Kili’s mouth dropped open and Fili elbowed him hard. “Yes, Mr Boggins!”

 

Bilbo fixed his firm stare onto Kili. This little dwarfling reminded him so much of Thorin, especially his stubborn nature. If he was to have trouble with either of them, it would be with him.

 

“Okay…” Kili mumbled with a frown. Bilbo nodded sharply and opened the door again.

 

“Okay then. Come inside and remove your shoes.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Bilbo rubbed his temple with a sigh as he watched Ori and Fili right the overturned chairs in his dining room. On his hip Gimli was still grumbling, irritated from being woken from his nap.

 

Kili, on the other hand, looked rather proud of himself. The young dwarf had not only overturned the entire dining room, but he had woken Gimli with the doors he had slammed, broken two plates and a mug and dented the floorboards.

 

Fili had said that Kili didn’t take well to rules, being at a rebellious age. Kili had backed that up by being a pure ball of chaos.

 

“Fili,” Bilbo addressed the eldest of the dwarrows. “Please head out and find the Erebor Patrol. They should be moving through Hobbiton, along the main roads. Any hobbit should help you. You may tell them that I need them to escort the young prince back to the mountain. Take Ori with you, don’t get lost.”

 

Fili looked like he wanted to argue, especially when Kili’s jaw dropped open. After a moment the dwarf stuck his nose in the air.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Fili!” Kili said snootily. “He won’t really send me away.”

 

Fili frowned at his brother before taking Ori’s hand and dragging the younger dwarf from the room. Bilbo stared Kili down, meeting the level stare the boy was giving him until he heard the door close behind the other two.

 

“Now then,” Bilbo shuffled Gimli on his hip, turning his gaze to the little dwarfling. “Shall we get you settled again? Or do you want something to eat?”

 

“Eat!” Gimli readily agreed, grabbing Bilbo’s hair and tugging. “Nom!”

 

Bilbo laughed as he carried the boy into the kitchen, ignoring the young prince in the dining room. He set Gimli on the table, humming to himself as he prepared some sandwiches. The first one went to Gimli who dug right in as Bilbo made more for when Fili and Ori returned.

 

A loud crash sounded from the dining room.

 

Bilbo ignored it, whistling now, though Gimli’s head whipped around to stare. Bilbo simply poured the boy a cup of sweetened milk and continued his work until a plate of sandwiches stood in the centre of the table, three more cups set around it.

 

Picking up one of the cups, Bilbo grabbed a sandwich as something thumped heavily down the hall. He smiled at Gimli who stared back at him in wonder.

 

The little dwarf was only six, just old enough to wander without his parents. Ori was the next youngest at ten, while Kili was scarcely a year older at eleven. Fili was the eldest at thirteen, and was apparently taking the step into his teenage years very maturely. Being the current heir he said he had to be more responsible.

 

Before that, according to Ori, he had been just as bad as Kili.

 

Bilbo assumed this was why Kili was acting up so much. If Fili had been just as bad as his brother then Kili probably missed his partner in crime. They were apparently extremely close, once again according to Ori.

 

Not too long after Bilbo finished his sandwich and Gimli was chewing a third there came a loud knock at the door. Another crash sounded from down the hall and Bilbo rose, moving past his dishevelled living room to open the door.

  
Standing on his step were three dwarrows, all dressed in the uniform of the guards of Erebor and looking mighty awkward. Ori was seated atop one’s shoulders while Fili stood proudly in the middle of them all.

 

“Ah, here we are,” Bilbo said with a smile. “Thank you, Fili, Ori.”

 

“What’s this all about, Master hobbit?” one of the dwarrows asked. “The young prince said it was concerning his brother?”

 

“Yes, Prince Kili here,” Bilbo stepped aside, revealing the young prince peeking around the corner. “Needs to be escorted back to Erebor.”

 

“Hey! You can’t send me back!” Kili shouted, running forward and tugging on Bilbo’s hand. “You can’t!”

 

“It would be best to return him to, what was it… Dwalin,” Bilbo tugged Kili forward by the hand. “Do you know Dwalin?”

 

“Yes, of course,” one of the guards said, still looking confused. “Is there a problem?”

 

“Yes there is,” Bilbo said as he released Kili’s hand. The guard caught the prince around the waist as he threw himself forward with a choked sob. “Kili was told if he misbehaved he would be sent him. He misbehaved, he is being sent home.”

 

“No! You can’t!” Kili shouted, kicking and screaming against the dwarf holding him. “I won’t go!”

 

“Thank you very much,” Bilbo said with a bow. Fili stepped into the hole hesitantly, staring at his screaming brother. Ori scrambled behind Bilbo, clinging to his legs. “Come on, boys, say goodbye and then there’s sandwiches waiting.”

 

Ori waved at the crying prince before darting down the hall, eager to be away from the prince. Fili just stood beside Bilbo, staring at his crying brother who was hefted up into the arms of a guard.

 

“Please!” Kili cried. “I don’t wanna! I’ll be good! Fili! _Fili!_ ”

 

Bilbo laid a hand on Fili’s shoulder and the golden prince gazed up at him. “Do you want to go with him, Fili?”

 

Fili looked torn. Part of him clearly wanted to go with his brother, but another part wanted to stay. Bilbo sighed, ruffling his hair. Fili shuffled slightly and then shook his head.

 

“He’s supposed to be punished,” Fili said firmly. “If I go it’s not punishment.”

 

Bilbo nodded sadly and looked back at the prince who was sobbing into the dwarf who was carrying him. “Good bye, Kili. When you learn how to behave you may return.”

 

With that, Bilbo closed the door, ignoring the heartbreaking cries that sounded through the door.

 

“C-Come on, Fili,” he whispered, taking the young prince’s hand. “Let’s go eat.”

 

Kili’s howls sounded down the lane, each like a blade to Bilbo’s heart.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Fili lasted an hour without Kili. He broke down after lunch, tears in his eyes as he begged Bilbo to take him back to Erebor. Bilbo readily agreed, not wanting to see another dwarfling in tears. He packed up their things and scooped Gimli up onto his hip. Ori helped the sniffling Fili with his shoes and soon they were ready to go.

 

Bilbo shut the door easily behind them and made his way down the path, Ori and Fili trailing behind them, their hands joined. Gimli was mumbling to himself in Bilbo’s arms, a frown marring his serious face.

 

Bilbo whistled as their strange party made it’s way through Hobbiton, past the curious hobbits and stern Erebor patrol. Bilbo easily led them to the edge of the Shire, where the great road curved up the mountain towards Erebor. Ori took over directions here, dragging Fili up to walk in front of Bilbo.

 

Fili was still muted as he walked, staring at his boots as he allowed Ori to drag him. Ori was babbling on about various things, flowers they saw along the way, foods he loved and what Bilbo would think of Erebor.

 

Bilbo felt a trendily of anxiety curl in his stomach as they approached the massive open gates of Erebor. Hobbits were welcome here, of course, many worked in the castle itself. But Bilbo had never been. And here he was with one of the princes, having sent the other home in tears.

 

The guards on the walls watched their entrance with wary eyes, clearly recognizing the prince. Bilbo stopped inside the massive entrance hall and looked around helplessly. He had no idea where to go now. The high ceilings above made him even more aware of his short stature. The incredible detail in the pillars and walls must have taken decades to complete. Countless corridors branched off around him, each leading deeper into the mountain.

 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo looked around nervously. “Ori?”

 

“This way,” Ori began to skip towards a seemingly random corridor. Bilbo hurried after him, not wanting to get lost.

 

The corridor was as beautifully decorated as the rest of the mountain. The floor was polished marble, each large square decorated differently. Lamps lit the paths, a soft golden glow that made the whole place seem warm and welcoming.

 

“Over here, Mister Bilbo!” Ori chirped as he stopped at an open door. The room seemed to be some sort of reception chamber. A large fire was burning in the hearth, revealing the soft sofas and large chairs filling the room.

 

“Fili!”

 

In a black blur Kili shot across the room and slammed into his brother and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Fili wrapped his arms around Kili, holding him tight and burying his face in Kili’s hair. Gimli clapped his hands in delight from his perch upon Bilbo’s hip and the hobbit hurridly put him down.

 

The tiny dwarfling stumbled across the room to the group of dwarrows that occupied a couple of long couches. He threw himself into a dwarf’s arms, a dwarf Bilbo quickly recognized as Gloin.

 

“My precious boy,” Gloin cooed as he lifted his son up. “Did you have fun? Did you miss daddy?”

 

The other dwarrows pulled various faces of disgust at the dwarf’s actions. Bilbo hid a smile behind his hand as he looked over the others in the room.

 

Ori was climbing eagerly onto Dwalin’s lap, much to the exasperation of the bigger dwarf. One of the first things Bilbo learnt after spending time with Ori was that Dwalin was the sun and moon to the boy, a great hero in his eyes. Apparently when he was younger Ori had snuck out to the woods to the south to explore, and had been set upon by wargs. Dwalin, who had been nearby hunting, had come to the dwarflings rescue. Since then Ori had looked up to Dwalin like no other, purely in awe of the dwarf who had saved his life.

 

According to Nori, from whom Bilbo learnt the tale, Dwalin grumbled and complained about Ori’s obsession with him, but deep down he adored it. He had been severely jealous of Bilbo in the beginning, apparently, because before Bilbo watched him Ori would spend his days following Dwalin as best as he could.

 

An older dwarf stood behind Dwalin, talking lowly with the only other dwarf in the room. Bilbo’s heart jumped up into his throat. Even from the back Thorin was unmistakable.

 

“Take yer love fest outside, Gloin,” Dwalin grunted as Ori curled up against him. Gloin shot him an annoyed look before carrying his son from the room, both of them grumbling in a startlingly similar manner.

 

The older dwarf turned to look at Bilbo, his eyes piercing. He looked rather familiar, though Bilbo couldn’t place why. He judged the dwarf to be around the age of thirty, though he still had both bonding bracelets firmly around his wrists, both as gold as Dwalin’s.

 

Dwalin himself looked of a similar age to Thorin – presumably the same age as Bilbo, around twenty. Though it was hard to tell with dwarrows. Bilbo himself was nineteen, though he knew to the dwarrows he must look younger. They always had trouble telling the ages of hobbits, simply because hobbits did not grow beards, something dwarrows gained early on in life. Even young Ori had the beginning wisps of curls emerging from his chin.

 

“Welcome, Master Baggins,” the dwarf had a light-hearted voice as he moved forward, offering his hand to Bilbo. “Thank ye for returning the little ‘uns.”

 

“N-No problem,” Bilbo mumbled as he shook the dwarf’s hand. “I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage, I don’t know your name.”

 

“Balin,” the dwarf responded with a smile. “At yer service.”

 

“A pleasure,” Bilbo responded, releasing his hand. Balin gestured for him to take a seat, which he did so cautiously.

 

Before anything else could be said, a hand tugged at Bilbo’s sleeve. He looked down into bright blue eyes and sighed softly.

 

“Yes, Kili?” he murmured to the dwarfling. Kili bit his lip and looked back at his brother who nodded in encouragement.

 

“I’m sorry, Mister Boggins,” he whispered. “For being bad. Are you still mad at me?”

 

Bilbo sighed and grasped Kili by the waist, lifting the little dwarfling onto his lap. Kili buried his face into Bilbo’s neck, grabbing two hands of his shirt and wrinkling it terribly.

 

“No, Kili, I’m not mad,” Bilbo whispered as he smoothed a hand down Kili’s back. “And if you promise to behave I’ll let you come by again.”

 

“I will,” Kili mumbled into his neck. “Promise.”

 

“Alright then,” Bilbo pressed his head to Kili’s dark hair with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Kili clung tight to Bilbo for a moment before releasing him and scrambling from his lap. He grabbed Fili’s hand and the two took off out of the room, giggling and chattering loudly.

 

Bilbo shook his head fondly and turned back to the older dwarrows. His stomach did a violent lurch as his eyes fell upon Thorin, who was staring straight back at him. He quickly averted his eyes, looking instead to little Ori, who was mumbling softly as he clumsily braided Dwalin’s beard. Dwalin was chuckling every now and then, his hands steadying Ori on his lap.

 

“Mister Baggins,” Thorin strode forward and Bilbo reluctantly turned his eyes back to the prince, his face heating up under that probing gaze. “I am sorry my kin caused you such trouble. Kili will be appropriately punished and anything he damaged will be replaced, you have my word.”

 

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Bilbo protested, waving his hands quickly. “Being separated from Fili and sent home was bad enough for him, I’m sure. It’s fine, really.”

 

“Nevertheless, I will inspect the damage he caused personally,” Thorin said as he stood before Bilbo, eyes never once leaving the hobbit’s face. “You can expect me tomorrow evening. I shall replace anything he damaged at once.”

 

“Wha- oh no, no that’s not necessary,” Bilbo shot to his feet, shaking his head vehemently. “Really, I mean it, not at all needed, no damage don-”

 

Bilbo cut off abruptly as Thorin took both his hands in one of his large ones and leant forward, bringing their faces closer and the height difference down considerably. Bilbo could see every crease in the prince’s lips, every eyelash surrounding his eyes.

 

“I insist, Mister Baggins,” Thorin’s voice was soft and deep. “I will arrive tomorrow evening.”

 

Thorin ran his thumb over Bilbo’s fingers once, the soft touch making Bilbo gasp softly, before releasing his hands and striding from the room without a further word. Bilbo was left standing there, staring after him wonder.

 

“Ah, lad, you can stare all you want, you’ll never figure him out,” Balin chuckled as he patted Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo blinked at the dwarf, drawn out of his trance. “I’ll have Ori take you back out. Hate for you to get lost.”

 

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Bilbo mumbled. “I’m afraid I’m not like you dwarrows, you’ve all managed to find my hobbit hole after being there once or not at all!”

 

“Ah, not entirely so,” Balin chuckled. “They’ve all asked for directions. Thorin especially. Why do you think it took him a full week to apologize for his behaviour? He spent three days wandering the Shire before he could find your hole again. Not the best with directions he is.”

 

Bilbo smiled at that, amused by the slight insight to the dwarf prince. He turned to Ori who was being lifted off Dwalin’s lap and onto the dwarf’s thick shoulders.

 

“Aren’t you a bit old for that, Ori?” Bilbo asked with a smile. Ori scowled and wrapped his arms around Dwalin’s head, covering the dwarf’s eyes.

 

“No,” Ori protested. Dwalin grunted and moved his arm so he could see. “Mister Dwalin doesn’t mind.”

 

“Aye,” Dwalin grunted as he stomped towards the door. He shot Bilbo a dark look. “Ye comin’?”

 

Bilbo scrambled after the dwarf with a quick nod to Balin, who waved cheerfully at him. He hurried after the two dwarrows, staring around at the hallway again. Dwalin was commanding all of Ori’s attention, so Bilbo trailed behind silently.

 

They left him at the great gates, Ori waving and calling out goodbyes while Dwalin simply steadied the dwarfling from falling from his shoulders. Bilbo waved in return before beginning the trek back down to the Shire. He was halfway there when the thought struck him like lightning.

 

Thorin was visiting Bag End.

 

Thorin was visiting in the evening.

 

Thorin had invited himself over for dinner.

 

With a yelp Bilbo took off, racing towards the Shire. If Thorin was visiting tomorrow Bilbo had to tidy the hole, plan a meal, hide all the things Kili broke and mentally prepare himself for the visitor invading his home.

 

But all the same, Bilbo couldn’t stop smiling.


	5. Dining Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo prepares for Thorin's visit and things aren't as they were expected to be...

“So they don’t eat anything weird, right?”

 

Drogo shot Falco an incredulous look as they trailed Bilbo around the market place, baskets clasped in their arms.

  
“They’re dwarrows, not orcs,” Drogo said with a roll of his eyes. After removing one of his bonding bracelets the younger hobbit had gotten a rather large head, acting as though he was much more mature than Falco and Bilbo. “They eat food the same as you and I.”

 

“Cookin’ for dwarrows, are we?” the hobbit that stood behind the fruit stall asked, eyebrows raising. Before Bilbo could speak Drogo stepped forward, opening his big mouth.

 

“Not just _any_ dwarf! Prince Thorin himself!” he exclaimed, and quite loudly Bilbo noted with a wince. “He’s going to Bilbo’s for dinner!”

 

“Drogo, shut _up!_ ” Bilbo hissed, but the damage was already done. In the blink of an eye Bilbo found himself surrounded by hobbits, all of them demanding to know why the prince was coming over and offering their best food.

 

“Oops,” Drogo stared down at his feet, dark curls falling to cover his face. Falco rolled his eyes and pushed forward, wrapping an arm around an overwhelmed Bilbo’s shoulders.

 

“Alright, let him breathe!” Falco shouted. “Yes, Prince Thorin is supping with Bilbo, but it’s nothing like you all think! Bilbo takes care of his nephews on occasion, and the Prince simply wants to come by to thank him.”

 

“Oh, aye,” someone shouted from the back of the crowd. “He’ll be thanking him all night if the dance they shared at the Gathering was any indication!”

 

The hobbits roared with laughter and Bilbo turned scarlet, staring down at his feet. Falco made a rude gesture in the general direction of the shouter and turned back to Bilbo with a thoughtful look on his face, one that soon morphed into a wicked grin.

 

“Bilbo here is looking for supplies for tonight,” Falco announced. “If anyone wishes to donate anything he can serve to the Prince, Bilbo will be sure to recommend them for further business in the royal household and Erebor in general.”

 

Bilbo was nearly knocked over by the flurry of activity that happened next. Hobbits surged around him, gathering up the best of their wares to be fed to the crown prince, each of them babbling on to Bilbo about how fine quality it was, and how the prince was sure to be impressed by the meal Bilbo cooked using it.

  
Eventually Bilbo simply shuffled to the side, letting Falco take over. The hobbit was completely in his element, directing the hobbits and arranging for the items to be delivered directly to Bag End. Drogo sat beside Bilbo on the bench he had snagged, happily munching on an apple that was probably free.

 

“Not bad, is he?” Drogo asked as he took a large bite. Bilbo shot him a disgusted look.

 

“What am I to do when no recommendation from the palace comes?” he asked irritably. Drogo shrugged a shoulder.

 

“Tell them that the quality wasn’t high enough and to do better next time,” Drogo suggested. Bilbo scowled.

 

“You need to stop spending time with that Brandybuck,” he grunted. Drogo waved his right arm under Bilbo’s nose smugly, showing his lack of bonding bracelet on that wrist.

 

“Nope, I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with her,” Drogo said with a besotted sigh. “Oh my Primula, she’s so beautiful, is she not?”

 

Bilbo simply rolled his eyes and peered around. The frenzy appeared to be dying down now, and Falco was sauntering towards him, looking extremely proud of himself.

 

“There we are, Bilbo,” he said as he clapped his hands together. “All done. Can we go back to yours for a game of conkers now?”

 

“Y-You- are you insane?!” Bilbo spluttered, shooting to his feet. “After _that?_ No! You can go home!”

 

“Right, right,” Falco didn’t seem dissuaded. “You have to get ready for dinner, of course. We’ll see you tomorrow to hear all the details!”

 

With that Falco grabbed Drogo’s arm and dragged him off, leaving Bilbo slumped on the bench. Bilbo sighed heavily and grabbed his baskets. He might as well make his way back home.

 

He was halfway there when both his baskets were tugged from his hands on either side. Bilbo scowled down as he saw two little princelings grinning back up at him, baskets happily grasped in their hands.

 

“What brings you two to the Shire?” he asked, not breaking stride. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Balin humming along behind him.

 

“We heard that Uncle’s coming to visit you, Mr Boggins!” Fíli chirped. “We wanted to come by and help!”

 

“And why do I need your help, hmm?” Bilbo asked in amusement, his mood lightening. Kíli was the one who answered as he reached up to take Bilbo’s hand.

 

“Because we know Uncle’s favourite foods,” Kíli said seriously. “And Mama always says that you need to feed a dwarf the right food or else the courting will be a disaster.”

 

“Wh- we’re _not_ courting!” Bilbo spluttered. Even the dwarflings thought that? “He’s just checking in to see-”

 

Bilbo broke off as Kíli gazed up at him, eyes wide and innocent. Bilbo sighed heavily. He couldn’t very well tell Kíli that Thorin was coming to see the mess and damage the little dwarf had done to his house, now could he?

 

“Your uncle just wants to get to know the hobbit who is taking care of ye,” the helpful explanation came from Balin behind them. “That’s all, lads. I’m sure yer mother had a hand in it, wanting to know who you’re being left with.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Fíli looked crestfallen on his other side. “So you’re not going to be our new Uncle?”

 

“N-No,” Bilbo shook his head vehemently. “Your Uncle has no interest in a little hobbit like me.”

 

“Hmm,” Kíli was frowning at the basket he was carrying as they reached Bagshot row. “Uncle doesn’t waste his time, Mr Boggins.”

 

With that the little terrors ran ahead, leaving a stunned Bilbo to walk with Balin. Bilbo stared at the dwarf who shrugged, eyes twinkling.

 

“Prince Thorin doesn’t waste his time with trivial things, they’re right,” Balin agreed. “And I heard he danced with ye at the Gathering last week?”

 

“Aye, he did,” Bilbo responded cautiously. Balin’s grin grew.

 

“He’s never danced at one before,” was all Balin said before he hurried ahead to keep an eye on the princes.

 

Bilbo stared after him in disbelief, unsure how he was supposed to process this information.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

He was late.

 

Bilbo didn’t want to read too much into it as he paced in front of the dining room table, but Balin had told him to expect Thorin around sundown, and the sun had well and truly set. Bilbo stared back at the dishes set out on the table behind him. According to the Durin brothers Thorin had a fondness for cold meats, stews and roasted potatoes. Bilbo had made all of those, setting out a meal fit for several dwarrows. The stew was on a low fire, just enough to keep it hot, as were the potatoes.

 

And Thorin wasn’t _here._

 

Bilbo scowled and stomped into his study, snatching up his pipe. He had no idea what he was thinking, going out of his way to prepare a meal – a _courting meal_ – for a dwarf that probably hadn’t even meant what he had said when he had invited himself over.

 

Bilbo lit up his pipe, puffing irritably. He shouldn’t have let them all get him worked up. Falco, Drogo, Balin, Fíli and Kíli. He should have ignored them all.

 

And yet, if they all thought what he thought, there was some merit to his believing that Thorin was interested, wasn’t there?

 

The whole thing gave Bilbo a headache.

 

He slumped back into the dining room, eyeing the food spread out. He should eat, he supposed, or pack up and make something smaller.

 

He had just picked up the first plate when there was a loud knock at the door.

 

His heart leaping into his throat, Bilbo raced to the door, catching himself at the last minute and taking a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his suspenders. He let a slight smile show on his face and opened the door.

 

The smile fell straight off when he saw Dwalin standing on his doorstep.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not caring how rude he was. Dwalin rolled his eyes.

 

“Am I late?” he asked as he pushed through. “Which way is it?”

 

“Is what?” Bilbo asked as he hurried after Dwalin, the door left open behind him. “Dwalin, is what?”

 

“Mr Baggins? You here?” the voice came from the open door way and Bilbo abandoned his pursuit of Dwalin to return to the door. Balin stood there, a smile on his face and a dwarfling holding each hand. Fíli and Kíli raced to him immediately, latching to his legs with excited grins.

 

“Mr Boggins, Mr Boggins!” Kíli was practically dancing around him. “Where’s the food?”

 

“I-In the dining room,” Bilbo said, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Has it been cancelled?” Kíli asked, face crestfallen. Bilbo frowned down at him and closed the door behind them.

 

“Cancell- no, nothing’s been cancelled,” he said bewildered. Fíli grinned at him.

 

“Good!” he said happily, dumping his shoes by the door as Kíli poked his head around the corner.

 

“Fíli! Kíli! Get in here,” Dwalin shouted from the dining room. Both boys and Balin hurried off.

 

“Mister Dwalin!” Bilbo heard Kíli chirp as the dwarrows vanished. Before he could follow them a knock sounded at the door.

 

“More? How many more are there?” he cried as he stomped to the door. “You’ve got the wrong place!”

 

He opened the door and eight dwarrows tumbled in, falling down onto his rug. Bilbo recognized Nori’s ridiculous hair, Bofur’s stupid hat and the little dwarfling perched on the back of a one of them.

 

“Ori,” Bilbo sighed, reaching over the fallen dwarrows to pick the little one up. “Come here.”

 

Ori clung to Bilbo, ignoring the grunt he gave. Ori wasn’t as light as he looked, even though he was small for a dwarf. Bilbo was surprised he could still lift him. He wouldn’t be able to lift Fíli, he knew that much. The thirteen year old was almost at Bilbo’s shoulder!

 

“Is Mister Dwalin here?” Ori asked as he grinned at Bilbo.

  
“Wh- yes, he is, but why are-” Bilbo was cut off by the dwarfling who squirmed in his arms.

 

“Put me down, please!” he begged. Bilbo set the dwarfling on his feet and he raced off towards the sound of voices. It wasn’t too long and Bilbo heard a shout. “Mister Dwalin!”

 

Bilbo stared at the dwarrows picking themselves up in his doorway with wide eyes. Bofur was the first to move forward, grinning down at Bilbo.

 

“Mr Baggins, thank ye for your kind hospitality,” he said with a deep bow. “Allow me to introduce my brother, Bombur, and my cousin Bifur.”

 

Bombur was a huge dwarf, his ginger hair elaborately braided around his neck in a robe, he seemed nice enough as he nodded to Bilbo. Bifur, on the other hand, was terrifying, from the axe in his head to the language he spoke that Bilbo didn’t understand.

 

“Yes, hello,” Bilbo greeted impatiently. “Why are you her-”

 

“Ah, Bilbo,” Nori swept forward, an arm wrapping around Bilbo’s shoulders. “You’ve met Dori before, yes?”

 

Neither dwarf waited for an answer, they simply swept off down the hall. Bilbo gaped at them as they left, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur following in their wake. He turned to the two remaining dwarrows, sighing as Gloin moved forward to clap his hand.

 

“Marvellous, just marvellous,” he said with a grin. “Shame Gimli couldn’t be here, past his bedtime you know. This is my brother, Oin.”

 

“Why are you here?” Bilbo demanded straight away, not caring if it was rude. Oin blinked at him before pulling out an old and dented ear trumpet.

  
“You’ll have to speak up, lad!” he all but shouted as he began to meander down the corridor. “My hearing’s a bit funny!”

 

Bilbo leant against his door heavily. It seemed the flow of dwarrows had stopped for now, but it was still a lot to take in.

 

And Thorin _still_ wasn’t here!

 

Bilbo turned and sighed heavily at the noise coming from his dining room before he stood up straight, closing the door and adjusting his suspenders.

 

Time to go deal with the dwarrows that invaded his home!

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

An hour later found Bilbo curled up in his study, hiding behind the door. The dwarrows had trod mud into the carpet, eaten all the food in his pantry and had all but destroyed the plumbing in his bathroom! Even the little ones were being swept in the madness, Kíli and Fíli tossing plates around and singing about it!

 

Bilbo shut everything out as he sat in the room, shamelessly sulking. He would not have minded such a merry gathering in his home, if he had been prepared and had actually _invited any of the guests._

 

Bilbo firmly told himself he was _not_ sulking because the prince had forgotten him.

 

None of the dwarrows would give him an answer as to why exactly they were there. They would either ignore the question or change the subject.

 

Bilbo didn’t know when it happened, but he dozed there in his study, leaning against the wall behind the door. This was how he was found, an hour later, by one he did not expect.

 

“Wake up, Master Baggins. You have guests to attend to.”

 

“Mmm, go away,” Bilbo grunted as he waved his hands, trying to bat away whoever was waking him. Strong hands caught his and Bilbo could have sworn that the person holding his hands was fiddling with his bonding bracelets, running their fingers around the edges. “Didn’t invite… any…”

 

“No, you didn’t. They invited themselves, just like I did.”

 

Bilbo blinked himself away at that. He stared blearily up at the figure in the dark before him, trying to make out who it was. The figure pulled him to his feet and stepped back into the circle of light that poured in from the corridor, their hands still grasping Bilbo’s.

 

Bilbo glared harshly at Thorin Oakenshield, who had the decency to look ashamed. Bilbo tugged his hands free of Thorin’s, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest.

 

“Perhaps _you_ will tell me why I have so many dwarrows destroying my hobbit hole?” Bilbo demanded. “I’ve asked and asked and none will say!”

 

“Ah, that would be an error on my part,” Thorin said with a heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his dark hair and then those bright eyes were boring into Bilbo’s. “I may have mentioned my evening plans to one or two of them. I was detained by a council meeting, and told Balin to send word. The others may have… overheard.”

 

“Overheard?” Bilbo hissed. “You mean they ate all my food, drank all my ale and destroyed my home out of sheer dwarrow curiosity?!”

 

“So it seems,” Thorin said with a shrug. A shout came from down the hall and Thorin sighed again, softer this time. “I am truly sorry, Master Baggins. I did not intend for this night to have so many chaperones.”

 

With that, Thorin strode from the room, leaving Bilbo standing stock still in the middle of his study.

 

What exactly did Thorin mean by ‘chaperones’?!


	6. Dallying Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo deals with his unwelcome guests.   
> Bilbo gets a welcome guest who thinks himself unwanted.  
> Bilbo gets two welcome guests who make for an interesting night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so what's everyone's thoughts on m-preg? I'm rather indifferent to it, honestly (as long as it's non-graphic and there's no sudden birth canals emerging -shudders-) but I want to know everyone elses's opinion on it.

Bilbo had heard it was a common saying in Erebor that hobbits are amazing creatures, that you think you’ve learnt all there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you in a pinch.

 

No one ever told Bilbo that the same could be said for dwarrows on occasion.

 

When Bilbo had stumbled out of his study he had found that his hole was perfectly tidy, all the dishes were cleaned and the dwarrows were calmly seated around his drawing room, smoking and talking amongst each other. A quick check through the whole home had shown that they had completely tidied up after themselves, and that they had not eaten his entire pantry as he first thought, but rather just the food that the hobbits had donated, distinguished by their delivery baskets.

 

Bilbo shyly stood in the doorway of his drawing room, watching as Bofur spun a great tale, waving his arms around to emphasise a point. A quick scan of the room showed Fíli seated on the floor before the fire, eyes wide as he hung on every word. Kíli was curled into his side, less alert but awake nonetheless.

 

Ori was fast asleep, thumb in his mouth, on Dwalin’s lap. Dori was seated beside his younger brother and occasionally fussed with the blanket they had thrown over him, which at a second glance appeared to be the one Bilbo himself tucked around Ori when he fell asleep over a book during his visits.

 

Thorin himself was in the armchair by the fire, Bilbo’s armchair, his father’s armchair. He was puffing softly on a pipe, occasionally leaning down to run a hand over Fíli’s golden hair. His cloak was gone, wrapped around Kíli it seemed, leaving the prince in a midnight blue tunic that his shoulders filled out perfectly.

 

Bilbo sighed softly, leaning against the archway that connected his drawing room to his front hall. Thorin looked surprisingly at home in his hobbit hole, seated in the armchair with a little one by his feet. Bilbo could just imagine coming with hot tea, serving it to Thorin before taking the little one by the hand and leading him down the hall to bed. Upon his return to the drawing room Thorin would catch him by the waist as he passed, dragging him down into his lap and engaging in more adult activities now that they were away from the eyes of impressionable youngsters…

 

Bilbo shook himself, startled by the extent of his imagination. He could feel his face heating up and was glad that none knew what he was thinking.

  
“Ah, Mr Baggins, you’ve returned!”

 

Bilbo blinked at Bofur’s shout and then flushed as he suddenly came under the scrutiny of every dwarf there. He nodded and stared down at his feet shyly, wriggling his toes.

 

“Ah, lads, it’s time we be off,” Balin rose from his seat and smiled at Bilbo before winking. “Thank ye, Master Baggins, for entertaining tonight.”

 

A chorus of thanks sounded from the other dwarrows, waking poor little Ori. He rubbed his eyes and took his thumb from his mouth, peering around sleepily.

 

“Let’s get you home then,” Dori murmured and reached out to take Ori. Bilbo bit back a smile when he saw Dwalin’s arms temporarily tighten around the little one before he released him. Ori protested for a moment before he allowed himself to be lifted into Dori’s arms with a sleepy wave to Dwalin.

 

The dwarrows began to pour past him towards the door, each pausing to shake his hand and thank him for the evening. Bilbo blinked at the rapid speed at which they did this and outright laughed when Fíli grasped his hand seriously. Kíli threw himself around Bilbo’s waist, hugging him tight, and then Fíli gave in and did the same.

 

Thorin was the last in line. He ran a hand through his hair before fixing his bright gaze upon Bilbo. He reached out and took Bilbo’s hand, and Bilbo was started to realize that Thorin’s sleeves had been rolled up, revealing powerful forearms. But what really caught Bilbo’s eyes were the bonding bracelets clasped around Thorin’s wrists, shining a pure almost white. Mithril.

 

“I am sorry again, Master Baggins,” Thorin murmured, his voice husky and deep. “It seems that I will need to come by again to inspect your home.”

 

“Oh… yes,” Bilbo lifted his gaze from the bracelets to Thorin’s face, so close to him. “I-I suppose you must…”

 

A smirk over took Thorin’s face and he ran a thumb over Bilbo’s wrist, right where the bracelet ended.

 

“Until then, Master Baggins,” Thorin whispered before he released the hobbit’s wrists and strode quickly from the room.

 

Bilbo sagged against the wood behind him, his breath racing out of him in a deep _whoosh._ Why was Thorin always so overwhelming? His very presence pushed in on Bilbo, sending shivers up his spine and making it so hard for him to think!

 

Bilbo stumbled into the drawing room and began to right the furniture back to where it originally was. He paused by the dying fire, staring down at where Kíli had been curled up and at what lay piled in a heap there.

 

Thorin’s cloak.

 

Bilbo glanced around secretively before he bent to pick it up. He lifted the material to his face and nuzzled the fur softly. It was indeed as soft as it looked and smelled _heavenly._ Bilbo closed his eyes and sighed, his mind flying back to the last Gathering, back to when this smell surrounded him in all its glory, Thorin’s arms clasped around his waist.

 

Giggling to himself and glancing around Bilbo quickly banked the fire and hurried through the house, putting out candles until he reached his bedroom. He set the cloak beside his bed and changed into his nightshirt quickly, ducking out to the bathroom to clean his teeth and wash his face.

 

He slid into bed with another nervous laugh before reaching over to pull the cloak on top of him, a second blanket. He snuggled down against his pillow, pulling the fur up to his face, sighing softly as Thorin’s scent surrounded him.

 

Sleep had never come quicker.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Bilbo woke up slowly, rolling happily in the scent surrounding him. He sighed softly, peering up at the window. He had slept late for once, the sun was quite high in the sky. He sat up, staring at the cloak that pooled around his waist with a smile. He slipped out of bed and tugged the cloak around himself like a robe, smiling to himself.

 

He shuffled to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. It was too late for breakfast or even second breakfast, so elevensies it was.

 

He was halfway through the sandwich when a heavy knock sounded at the door. Blinking, Bilbo rose and shuffled down to the door, still sleepy despite the food he had consumed. Without thinking, he swung the door open, stifling a yawn.

 

“Master Baggins, I seemed to have left m-”

 

Bilbo’s eyes shot open and he stumbled back from the door, his face flushing red as he stared at the dwarf prince that stood on his doorstep. Thorin’s eyes were bright with an emotion Bilbo couldn’t quite pinpoint as he stared at the hobbit wearing his cloak like a robe.

 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Bilbo fumbled for the clasps of the cloak, unable to look Thorin in the eye. How embarrassing to be caught wearing the prince’s cloak! “I was, uh, I was cold, and it was um, it was just-”

 

Hands shot out and caught his own fumbling ones with a near audible _clap._ Bilbo’s head shot up as the last clasp slid apart, causing the cloak to slide open.

 

Thorin’s eyes were storming, emotions swirling wildly. Bilbo inhaled sharply, wondering if he’d offended Thorin in some way by wearing his clothes.

 

“You will be the death of me,” Thorin rasped as he stepped into the hobbit hole. For every step Bilbo took back Thorin moved forward until the hobbit was crowded up against the wall opposite the hole. “You… I’ve tried to restrain myself, tried to go slow. It was bad enough seeing you for the first time in naught but a night shirt, the thing almost indecently hanging off your shoulder, but _this._ You, in my clothes, looking so damn rumpled… Damn you, Bilbo, _damn_ you.”

 

Before Bilbo could ask what on Middle-Earth Thorin was talking about the prince had shoved his hands above his head and was moving in, lips slamming down onto Bilbo’s and his body surging forward to press against Bilbo’s.

 

Bilbo’s eye shot open in shock before he _melted._ His eyes slid shut as his mouth slid open to Thorin’s questing tongue. Thorin groaned at his submission, his fingers stroking along the line of Bilbo’s bonding bracelets above them. He shoved a knee in between Bilbo’s legs and the hobbit gasped at the act, automatically parting his legs so Thorin could press his thigh to the hardness waiting for him.

 

“Ahhh!” Bilbo tore his mouth from Thorin’s as the prince began to grind his leg against Bilbo. “Oh! Oh please! Th-Thorin! It isn’t decent!”

 

“I don’t care,” Thorin snarled as he began to press bruising kisses to Bilbo’s neck. “I don’t care about the rules of courting, the correct protocols, I don’t care about a damn thing except _this._ ”

 

He thrust forward at the word, his own hardness hitting Bilbo’s thigh. Bilbo shuddered against Thorin. He wanted this, God he wanted this, but not like this. He didn’t want to be a quick romp to satisfy Thorin’s carnal desires.

 

“S-Stop!”

 

Thorin froze at Bilbo’s shout and then leapt back as if burnt. Bilbo sunk to the ground a hand pressed to his mouth in shock. Arousal still thrummed through every inch of his body, but so did anxiety.

 

He lifted his eyes to where Thorin stood, leaning against the wall. His arms were folded overhead, his forehead leaning against them.

 

“Th-Thorin?” Bilbo ventured shyly. “I-I’m sorry…”

 

“No, Bilbo,” Thorin turned to look at him, eyes tormented. “ _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t… I feel ashamed at my actions. Forcing myself on the unwilling…”

 

“I’m not unwilling!” Bilbo protested as he shot to his feet. “I just… it’s not proper for those who aren’t even courting…”

 

“Aren’t even courting?” Thorin stared down incredulously at Bilbo. “I danced with you, did I not? I have arranged a dinner meeting. You say we are not courting?”

 

Bilbo’s breath caught and he couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto his face. Thorin still looked deeply disgusted with himself, so Bilbo quickly shot forward and grabbed Thorin’s hand, holding it tight and smiling up at him.

 

“I… I guess we are,” he stuttered. Thorin ran his free hand through his hair and stared down at Bilbo, eyes curious.

  
“You are not afraid to be around me after… that?” Thorin asked, sounding confused. Bilbo felt his face enflame and he shook his head quickly.

  
“I enjoyed it,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from Thorin’s face. “But I am a proper respectable hobbit, and we don’t engage in such activities until we are engaged or bonded!”

 

Thorin let out a deep breath and tugged Bilbo softly by his hand, pulling him against him. Bilbo went willingly, leaning against the dwarf’s chest. Thorin wrapped strong arms around him, holding him tight.

 

“Then I would invite myself to dinner again,” Thorin said firmly. “In two days time.”

 

“Will you be on time though?” Bilbo asked with a raised eyebrow. “Or I should I plan for breakfast on Mersday instead?”

 

Thorin’s eyes darkened and he took a deep breath. “I would have you plan for breakfast for a different reason,” he murmured in a voice laced with desire. “But I will see you Hevensday, for dinner.”

 

Bilbo blushed and looked down at his feet, his desire still very prominent in his body.

 

“If that is all, your highness,” Bilbo slid from Thorin’s arms, as lovely as they were. “Who shall you be bringing as a chaperone on Hevensday?”

 

Thorin blinked as he seemed to suddenly realize what he had done. Announcing that they were courting aloud meant that they could no longer play dumb about their lack of chaperone. They would be watched like a hawk, not allowed to touch beyond the brush of hands or a soft kiss to the forehead.

 

“Hmph. I will find someone,” Thorin grunted as he cupped Bilbo’s face with both hands. Bilbo gazed up at him and Thorin swept in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips for possibly the last time. If their courting failed, they wouldn’t speak again. “I take my leave of your now, Master Baggins. Until Hevensday.”

 

With that he turned and strode to the door, leaving Bilbo to lean against the wall with a smile. Thorin nodded to him before he stepped out of the door.

  
“Your highness, wait!” Bilbo called, realizing he was still wearing Thorin’s cloak. “Your cloak!”

 

Thorin smiled at him, a genuine soft smile that was truly beautiful. “Hold onto it for me.”

 

With that, he strode off down the lane, whistling cheerfully in the bright light.

 

Bilbo watched him go with a smile, a hand pressed to his chest. An unexpected morning, but most welcome.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Bilbo had the sense not to tell Drogo or Falco of his upcoming dinner. The two hobbits were already pestering him enough as it was about the last one. No, Bilbo kept tight-lipped and waited until Hevensday itself before he went shopping. He slipped down to the markets and brushed off the questions from the curious hobbits around him, all wanting to know how their food had gone over with the dwarf prince. Bilbo stammered out a few non-descript answers before finishing up and hurrying back to Bag End.

 

Remembering Fíli and Kíli’s advice Bilbo spent the day cooking the foods he knew Thorin to favour. He ducked out to the garden a cut a few choice blooms, settling them into a vase on the table. Blushing at his silliness he hurried back to the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on his dishes.

 

Once everything was settled he hurried to the bedroom to change, shrugging on his best trousers, shirt and suspenders, along with a deep blue waistcoat. He combed through his hair in front of his vanity and then eyed himself critically, putting the brush down.

 

He stared down at the brush and blinked at the silver bead next to it. The one Fíli had left here on his first night. Smiling, Bilbo slipped it into the pocket of his waistcoat. He would give it to Thorin to pass on to Fíli.

 

He rushed back to the kitchen and checked the food one more time. Everything seemed ready to go. All he was waiting on was-

 

A loud thump sounded on the door and Bilbo’s heart leapt to his throat.

 

Thorin.

 

Bilbo hurried through the hole until he reached the front door. He smoothed a hand over his hair before he opened the door with a wide smile.

 

His smile fell off his face when he saw it was once again _not_ Thorin on his doorstep.

 

The dwarf smiled sweetly at him, head bowing slightly. Bilbo studied the dwarf for a moment before realizing that the dwarf before him was indeed female. Her hair was a light brown, nowhere near Bilbo’s honey blond, but lighter than Kíli’s brown. Her sideburns wisped down into a fine beard, braided with small bell-like beads. Her bright blue eyes were sparkling with light and mischief.

 

“Dis, at your service,” she greeted him with a small curtsy. “And you are Bilbo Baggins.”

 

“Y-Yes,” Bilbo stuttered as he looked Princess Dis up and down. The princess was a very private dwarf, and was never really seen outside of Erebor. A cool wind blew past and Bilbo suddenly remembered his manners. “Oh! Do come in!”

 

She stepped inside daintily, shaking her deep green dress out. Bilbo continued to stare after him, noting the resemblance between her and Thorin now. He shut the door behind him, eyes still on Dis.

 

“Hey!”

 

Bilbo blinked at the muffled voice and he quickly spun back to the closed door, eyes wide in horror. He pulled the green door open again, and sure enough, there stood Thorin, looking mighty irritated and annoyed.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Bilbo cried. “Please, come in, your highness!”

 

“Hmph,” Thorin still annoyed, but he stepped through the door anyway. He slipped his coat off and hung it up, ignoring Bilbo’s reaching hands. That done, he turned to his sister who was watching amused. “You’ve made your introductions with Dis, I see.”

 

“Yes,” Bilbo murmured, looking back to the princess. He smiled brightly at her. “Your sons are a delight, your highness.”

 

“Thank you, dear,” Dis smiled, her eyes crinkling nicely. “They adore you.”

 

Thorin grumbled to himself before he began herding Bilbo towards the dining room. As he passed Dis she smacked him over the back of the head and gave him a warning look.

 

“Hands to yourself, brother,” she warned, her eyes suddenly hard. Bilbo shivered at the family resemblance that was shining through all of a sudden. “I like this one, so you will court him properly and fully. Or else…”

 

She let the threat hang in the air and swept past her brother, grabbing Bilbo’s hand and dragging him through the hallway before them, leaving a sick-looking Thorin behind.

  
“Now, as you know, I’m twenty years older than my brother, and ten times more mature…”

 

It was going to be a long night.


	7. Delightful Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's courting dinner goes forward, Dis serving as chaperone and of course, fulfilling her duty as an elder sister to embarrass her little brother...

Bilbo would never get used to how much dwarrows eat. Hobbits could eat a lot, but they spaced everything out over the day. Many meals, all of them roughly the same size. Dwarrows however only ate three meals a day (shocking!) but they ate the same amount as hobbits did over a day in those three sittings.

 

Dis and Thorin demolished the meal, each seemingly trying to out-eat the other. Thorin took it as a personal challenge and proceeded to attempt to eat more than his sister. Dis seemed to be doing it just to annoy Thorin. Definitely Fíli and Kíli’s mother, despite how dainty a dwarf she was. Still larger than any hobbit Bilbo knew though… Stocky and wide for a hobbit but slender and dainty for a dwarf. Still, she was delightful company.

 

Over the course of the night Bilbo had heard several entertaining stories about the young dwarrows, along with more than several embarrassing stories about Thorin, much to the prince’s deep dislike.

 

“-and then he and Dwalin burst into our father’s chambers, stark naked and covered in honey-” Thorin let out a strangled sound of distress, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked to his sister. Bilbo was giggling helplessly into his pie, almost falling of his chair in amusement.

 

“Dis, please,” Thorin grunted. “Can you not tell him of the week Fíli and Kíli decided to dress Ori as a girl?”

 

“What?” Bilbo gasped for breath as he turned his gaze to Thorin. “Why?”

 

“So they could try and convince our father to engage Kíli and Ori,” Dis groaned at the memory. The King had not been happy. “Our Grandfather, Thrór, found the whole thing amusing as he could see it was Ori in a second, but Thráin, bless our father’s soul, he didn’t recognize Ori despite the little boy being glued to Fíli and Kíli’s side. He almost went through with it before Thorin spoiled the whole thing.”

 

“Father would have found out eventually,” Thorin explained as he speared a potato. “That was back when Fíli and Kíli thought only a male and female could marry.”

 

“Silly lads,” Dis chuckled as she helped herself to the last of the pie, despite Thorin’s grunt of annoyance. “Ori would have made such a sweet son-in-law… such a shame.”

 

“You don’t think they’ll marry when older?” Bilbo asked curiously. Dis chuckled into her mouthful, shaking her head.

 

“No, I do not,” she said with a smile at Bilbo. “Because I know that Ori has set his sights on Dwalin, despite the age difference, even if he doesn’t know it himself yet.”

 

“ _Dwalin?_ ” Bilbo asked, incredulous. Dis nodded with another of those eye-crinkling smiles.

 

“Ori adores him. I know they have a ten year age gap, but you mark my words, when Ori turns eighteen he’ll go straight for Dwalin,” Dis sighed at that. “Shame. He would have straightened Kíli right out.”

 

“Dis likes Ori as a son better than her own,” Thorin grunted as he reached for his wine glass. When Bilbo had first served it Thorin had muttered something about it being a ‘sissy elf drink’ but he was drinking it nonetheless.

 

“Is… Is it normal, for an age difference like that?” Bilbo asked hesitantly. Thorin sipped from his glass and nodded.

 

“Arranged marriages, usually,” he explained. “Dis can tell you more, she came from one herself.”

 

“Indeed,” Dis sighed softly, her eyes dreamy. “My Filerin and I were engaged when I was twelve. I met him when I was seventeen for the first time. I snuck down to watch a council meeting between his father and mine, and he caught me. He’s fifteen years older than I, but it matters not.”

 

Bilbo processed the information for a while, reaching for his glass. He wondered if Fíli would end up with an arranged marriage, being the heir and all. It was a common thing in the Shire as well, especially amongst the richer families. Bilbo had many cousins who were arranged to marry others, but most of them were childhood friends.

 

“So why haven’t you had a marriage arranged, if you don’t mind my asking?” Bilbo murmured, looking up at Thorin from under his lashes. Thorin smirked at him.

 

“Because of Dis here,” he said with a nod. “She’s twenty years older than I. Father is slightly… obsessed… with continuing his line. He arranged for Dis to be married in case our mother never fell pregnant again. Dis then gave him a heart attack by not falling pregnant for a good many years.”

 

“I wasn’t ready for kids,” Dis shrugged, unapologetic. “I took the herbs so I could enjoy my time with my husband.”

 

“And then you came along,” Bilbo prompted, staring up at Thorin, who nodded. “And your mother never had any other children?”

 

Both siblings fell silent, staring at the table with sorrowful eyes. Bilbo blinked, shocked by the silence he suddenly caused.

  
“Did… Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” he asked softly. All knew that the Queen had perished many years ago, it had been a time of great sorrow, but Bilbo didn’t know how it was connected.

 

“One other,” Dis said at last, her voice strained. “Frerin. He was born five years after Thorin, four years before Fíli would come along.”

 

“Oh no…” Bilbo whispered, sensing where the direction was going. Thorin nodded sadly.

  
“They both did not make it,” he murmured. “Birthing dwarrows is hard, hence why Dis here will not have any more children.”

 

“I’ve been blessed twice,” she explained. “I do not want to test fate a third time.”

 

Saddened by the morose mood that had settled over the table Bilbo stood, collecting the empty plates with a strained smile.

 

“Dessert next,” he mumbled as he snatched up Thorin’s plate. “Excuse me.”

 

He hurried into the kitchen feeling like an idiot. He shouldn’t have brought the queen up at all! It was always a point of sadness for dwarrows, royal or not.

 

Bilbo startled as Dis joined him, smiling sweetly and taking the apple pie from his hands.

 

“Relax, Master Baggins,” she said as he grabbed a couple of plates instead. “And cheer up. A courting dinner is a happy thing.”

 

“I know,” Bilbo sighed as he snatched up a serving knife and some spoons. “I just feel awful.”

 

“Well don’t,” Dis said firmly with a shake of her head. “Now, come show my brother exactly how good a cook you are, so he knows to bond with you quickly so no one else can swoop in and steal you.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think that will happen at all,” Bilbo shook his head shyly. Dis smiled in a truly evil way.

 

“Now, now, there’s a delegation of elves arriving from Mirkwood in time for the next Gathering,” Dis said as she moved towards the dining room. “Who knows?”

 

Bilbo shook his head fondly as he followed Dis back to the other room. Elves did not take partners outside of their own race, only for quick tumbles and dalliances. Hobbit and dwarf lifespans went by in the blink of an eye for an immortal elf, so there was no point in committing to a bonding ceremony with one who would simply grow old and die and it would barely take a moment of your time.

 

“What were you two talking about?” Thorin asked suspiciously, having caught a little of the conversation. Dis grinned wickedly at him.

 

“The upcoming Gathering,” she answered as Bilbo began to serve up the pie. He offered the first slice to Thorin, as was tradition, and then served Dis, followed by himself.

 

“Damn elves,” Thorin scowled as he dug into his pie. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he glanced at Bilbo. “This is delicious.”

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo smiled as he settled down. He turned his gaze back to Dis curiously. “What’s wrong with elves?”

 

“Nothing at all,” Dis answered firmly. “Aside from men, they’re our greatest allies. More so, actually.”

 

“Everything’s wrong with them,” Thorin snapped. “Tree-huggers.”

 

“Thorin dislikes them for personal reasons,” Dis chuckled. Thorin flushed a slight pink and stared at his pie pointedly. “When he first received his bracelets he pursued an elf who turned him down rather coldly. Thorin has disliked elves ever since. Prince Legolas, King Thranduil’s son, offered Thorin his hand in friendship, and Thorin responded in less than polite terms. Ever since then Legolas has gone out of his way to annoy Thorin, taking great pleasure in his reactions.”

  
“Little imp,” Thorin snapped. “Absolute terror.”

 

“He’s older than you by over a hundred and fifty years,” Dis reminded him. Thorin snorted into his pie.

 

“Elves mature differently,” he muttered. “He only just reached his maturity this year.”

 

“Anyway, Prince Legolas goes out of his way to torment Thorin,” Dis continued. “Father took council with Thranduil to explain the situation and try and sort it. Instead, Thorin has found himself with two tormentors, Thranduil acting just as childishly as his son.”

 

Bilbo fell into a fit of giggles at that, covering his mouth with a hand to stifle the noise. Thorin glared at him for it.

 

“It’s really quite funny,” Dis said as she sipped her wine. “Thranduil, the great King of Mirkwood, making snide comments about Thorin’s height being mirrored elsewhere at a great dinner of all our allies was something I never thought I’d see.”

 

Bilbo lost it at that, pitching sideways and only just catching the back of his chair to stop himself from tumbling down to the ground. His laughter was loud and clear, much to Thorin’s disgruntlement.

 

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” Thorin muttered darkly. “You’ll find out how untrue his comment is and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

 

Bilbo cut off abruptly, his face enflaming. Dis scowled at her brother from down the table.

 

“You’re lucky you’re so far away so I can’t hit you,” Dis snapped. Thorin shrugged, unapologetic, and threw Bilbo a filthy wink.

 

“Oh my,” Bilbo blushed, gathering up the plates quickly. He ducked from the room, trying to cool his hot face with a hand.

 

When he returned Thorin was sulking and Dis looked mightily pleased with herself, probably having put him in his place while Bilbo was gone.

 

“I’m afraid the hour grows late, Master Baggins,” Dis said as she rose. “We thank you for your hospitality, but we must be off less we be locked outside when the gates close.”

 

Bilbo nodded quickly and hurried around to Dis’s side, offering her his arm. “Thank you for your company, your highness.”

 

Bilbo walked the princess to the door, Thorin trailing behind, still sulking. He bowed over Dis’s hand before turning to Thorin, his heart thumping.

 

“I thank you for your company this night, your highness,” he said with a deeper bow. Thorin mirrored the action.

 

“It was my pleasure, Master Baggins,” he responded as he moved forward to take Bilbo’s hand, bowing again and brushing a kiss over it. It was as much as he could do, with Dis there. “And do drop the ‘highness’. Thorin is my name.”

 

“And mine is Bilbo,” Bilbo murmured in response. Thorin stroked his thumb over his hand once before releasing him and gathering his coat. Bilbo took Thorin’s cloak up from the hook next to it and offered it to Dis, seeing as she had forgotten her own.

 

“Thank you,” she said as she took it. She looked up at Thorin with a smile. “It is a bit large though.”

 

Thorin rolled his eyes and handed him her coat, taking the cloak himself. He shrugged it on and paused, lifting the top to his face. He inhaled deeply, eyes closed, and smiled down at Bilbo.

 

“Won’t you be cold at night without it?” he asked, arching an eyebrow and correctly guessing that Bilbo had been sleeping with the cloak. Bilbo flushed and shook his head, eyes firmly fixed on his toes.

 

“Thank you, for the loan of it,” Bilbo mumbled. Thorin chuckled and took his sister’s arm. Remembering he quickly dug into his waistcoat and pulled out the silver bead, holding it out to Thorin with a smile. “Fíli left this here that first night.”

 

“Thank you,” Dis said, reaching out to take it before Thorin could and – heaven forbid! – accidentally brush fingers with Bilbo. “I noticed he was missing one, but it’s a usual occurrence.”

 

“Until Highday,” Thorin said with another slight bow. With that he and Dis took off, hurrying back to the Lonely Mountain before the Great Gates closed.

 

Bilbo sighed and leaned against his doorway, watching as they left. The evening had gone well, he hoped. Dis seemed to like him, almost as much as she clearly liked embarrassing Thorin. Bilbo had cooked his finest, they had eaten it all, and Thorin was going to the next Gathering!

 

Giggling to himself Bilbo shut the door and set off to clean up.

 

Highday couldn’t come quick enough.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Mersday dragged by with only Ori coming to visit. Bilbo was walking him back to Erebor, shamelessly hoping for a glimpse of Thorin, when he saw them.

 

The elves.

 

He dragged Ori to the side of the hall, watching with an open mouth and wide eyes as they passed by gracefully. They were so tall, soaring to the sky! Bilbo craned his neck up to look at them, sure that they must be touching the clouds.

 

A hand fell on his shoulder and Bilbo turned to grin, startled, at Thorin. Thorin was scowling at the elves before them and Bilbo turned his gaze back to them, fascinated. As he watched one of the elves near the front of the procession turned to look their way. He was shockingly blond, almost white, just like the crowned elf at the front. Bilbo could see the silver eyes of this one from all the way across the hall, as well as the cheeky smirk that overtook his face at the sight of the two.

 

“Prince Legolas?” Bilbo hazarded a guess. Thorin nodded sharply. “Oh my…”

 

“Hmph,” Thorin’s hand tightened on Bilbo’s shoulder. He used it to draw the hobbit against him, holding him close.

 

“Hey!” the shout came from Ori, who moved quickly, violently kicking Thorin’s shin. Thorin swore and hopped away, rubbing his leg and glaring at the little dwarfling who simply glared back. “Princess Dis says you’re not allowed to touch him!”

 

Bilbo chuckled and patted Ori’s head gently. Trust Dis to convert the dwarflings to her cause.

 

“Thank you, Ori,” Bilbo laughed. “I have to be off anyway.”

 

“Safe travels, Mister Bilbo,” Ori sung softly. Bilbo ruffled Ori’s hair once more.

 

“Indeed, Ori,” he said before bowing formally to Thorin. Thorin grunted and reached for him, but Bilbo danced out of reach, not wanting Thorin to get into any more trouble. “Good day, Thorin.”

 

“Until tomorrow,” Thorin said with a nod. Bilbo felt his stomach curl pleasantly.

 

“Yes, until tomorrow.”

 

Bilbo whistled softly as he made his way through the hall, his hands in his pockets. He could feel Thorin’s gaze upon him as he left, beginning the trek back to the Shire.

 

He glanced back over his shoulder, smiling at Thorin who nodded in return. His eyes drifted further over and he stumbled as he saw Prince Legolas was still watching him, lingering at a corridor the other elves were vanishing into. The prince’s eyes went from him to Thorin and back, and truly mischievous look overtook him.

 

Bilbo swallowed hard. That did not bode well.


	8. Displeased Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas gets up to no good, and Bilbo makes a big decision!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to HiddenByFaeries for beta-ing for me!

**Chapter Eight**

Bilbo fussed in front of the mirror for a third time, sighing heavily at what he saw. He wore his finest trousers and shirt, as well as a golden waistcoat with little vines embroidered on it. His thick brown coat was serviceable rather than attractive. He would rather be warm than pretty. No matter how much he fussed with his hair though it remained the same floppy golden mop of curls.

 

The dwarrows all wore such beautifully intricate braids, and Bilbo’s simple curls looked so boring next to that. He wished he could do something more interesting with his hair, but it just grew and grew into this mess until he went and cut it all off. Maybe he should make an appointment soon; it was already brushing his shoulders at the back…

 

“Bilbo! You better be ready!”

 

Bilbo sighed at the voice sounding outside and swung the door open. Falco was bouncing up the path, Drogo following at a more sedate pace, holding hands with…

 

Bilbo took a step back at the sight of Primula, happily holding hands with and gazing sappily at Drogo. He scowled at Falco who gave him a warning look.

 

“Your dislike of Brandybucks is ridiculous,” Falco said with a shake of his head. “From a Took of all people!”

 

“ _Half_ Took,” Bilbo reminded him pointedly. “The lesser half.”

 

“The other half is boring,” Falco sung softly. He grabbed Bilbo’s hand and dragged him down through the door. Bilbo hastily shut it behind him before following his cousin to where the others waited.

 

“Bilbo!” Primula cried, throwing her arms around Bilbo. Bilbo grimaced and awkwardly hugged her back, patting her back lightly. “How rare to see you out!”

 

“Yes, well,” Bilbo extracted himself from the Brandybuck’s hold and shuffled back a couple of steps, resisting the urge to brush his coat off. “Shall we head off?”

 

Drogo grabbed Primula’s hand, causing her to giggle and blush, but she allowed herself to be led. Bilbo followed with Falco, his stomach twisting with nerves.

 

The walk to the Hall was much too short. Bilbo slipped in with his cousins, hoping to go unnoticed. After his performance last week, of course, that was impossible. Everyone wanted to talk with the hobbit who had danced with Prince Thorin. He was subject to jealous looks, admiring glances and contemplative scans.

 

Bilbo ducked away from the wandering hands of a not-at-all shy dwarf lass and managed to put the refreshment table in between him and everyone else. A great commotion sounded at the door and Bilbo turned to see a handful of elves entering, Prince Legolas at the centre.

 

“Hey, Baggins, leave this prince for the rest of us, yeah?” a hobbit lad down the table shouted, much to the amusement of everyone around them. Bilbo scowled and busied himself with getting a drink of punch. The elves were easy to keep an eye on – hovering head and shoulders above the crowd they cut a clear path.

 

Prince Legolas was indeed making his way towards him and Bilbo hurried down the other end of the table, downing his punch quickly. He set the empty glass down and began a twisted game of hide and seek with the elven prince, involving Bilbo scurrying from hobbit group to dwarf group, hiding behind them. Legolas would sweep through the crowd, eyes scanning until he found Bilbo.

 

The prince finally managed to corner him at the back of the hall, smiling disarmingly down at him.

 

“You are Mister Baggins,” he said without any formalities. “You have been avoiding me.”

 

“O-Oh, have I, your highness?” Bilbo asked nervously, eyes darting around for help. “It was not my intention.”

 

“Fear not, young hobbit,” Legolas laughed his voice like a bell. “I just wished to meet the one who could crack Prince Thorin’s emotional armour so.”

 

“I was warned about you,” Bilbo said abruptly. Legolas’s eyes were sparkling as he looked down at him. “Mischief was the main word used.”

 

“I’m not popular in the mountain, it’s true,” Legolas confirmed with a soft smile. “But you shouldn’t listen to rumour.”

 

The elf glanced around the hall quickly before he grabbed Bilbo’s hand and dragged him out to the floor to join in the dance that had just begun. Bilbo squeaked out several protests but soon enough found himself joined by both hands to the prince as they danced vigorously. In spite of it all, Bilbo found himself giggling and laughing, swept up in the fun. The songs played were suitable for an elf to dance with a hobbit or dwarf – the partners were joined at the hands, swinging in and out.

 

When the song came to an end Bilbo giggled happily, barely noticing Legolas resting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to the benches along the side of the hall. Bilbo sunk down onto one gratefully. The dance had been an energetic one, and had taken a lot out of him.

 

“Good evening, Master Baggins.”

 

Bilbo’s head shot up at that, and he stared up in horror at Thorin who was looking coldly down at him.

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo moved to stand, but Legolas pushed him back down. “Um, excuse me, Prince Legolas.”

 

“No, sit,” Legolas shuffled closer, smiling disarmingly at Thorin. “The dance has taken a lot out of him, he may need a moment to recover. “

 

“How kind of you,” Thorin all but snarled. “To look after his wellbeing so.”

 

“But of course,” Legolas’s smile became dark. “He needs someone to take care of him after all.”

 

Bilbo felt highly uncomfortable now, and he shuffled awkwardly.

 

“That’s very kind of you,” Bilbo said nervously as Legolas began to stroke his back. “But not at all necessa- that is most certainly _not_ my back, your highness!”

 

Thorin snapped. He grabbed Bilbo’s wrist and wrenched him forward, pulling him up out of the seat and into Thorin’s arms. Thorin closed them around Bilbo and glared down at Legolas.

 

“Thank you for your assistance, Prince Legolas,” he growled. “But find your own hobbit.”

 

With that Thorin dragged Bilbo away, leaving Legolas and his high laugh behind them.

 

“Thorin, slow down!” Bilbo begged. Thorin dragged Bilbo over to the refreshments table, snatching a glass of punch from a startled Bofur and handing it to Bilbo. Bilbo took a grateful sip before looking up at Thorin. He returned the glare being levelled at him.

 

“Don’t give me that look!” he said irritably. “The elf dragged _me_ out there! And he’s twice my height! What was I supposed to do?”

 

“He should not touch that which does not belong to him,” Thorin muttered. Bilbo smacked him lightly on the arm.

 

“I don’t belong to _you_ either, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo reminded him. At Thorin’s shocked and upset gaze Bilbo smiled softly. “Not yet.”

 

Thorin slid an arm around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him closer. He leaned down to nuzzle the side of Bilbo’s neck when he was suddenly wrenched away.

 

“Stop that,” Bofur admonished calmly as he dragged Thorin away by the back of his collar. “Dis’ll have my head if you get in trouble from the chaperones.”

 

Bilbo laughed happily and took Thorin’s hand, the small sign of affection allowed. He spotted Drogo and Primula over Bofur’s shoulder, the couple leaning heavily on each other as they swayed to the music, not actually dancing but simply enjoying each other’s company. As they had both removed a bonding bracelet they were allowed such affection. Falco was insisting that they would exchange their final bracelet before the month was out – a sign of engagement.

 

Bilbo sighed longingly at his cousin. He looked so content with Primula, so happy.

 

“You know them?” Thorin murmured next to him. Bilbo blinked up at him with a soft smile and nodded.

 

“My cousin, Drogo, and his intended, Primula,” he explained. He crinkled his nose slightly. “She’s a Brandybuck.”

 

“A horrendous crime, I’m sure,” Thorin chuckled. Bilbo smiled at him before releasing his hand and moving to grab another cup of punch. He glanced around before quickly ducking down to look under the table. When he straightened both Thorin and Bofur were staring at him strangely.

 

“Don’t give me that look,” Bilbo said with a scowl. He checked every Gathering now, just in case. “Where do you think I found the dwarflings?”

 

Thorin smiled at that, reaching out to take Bilbo’s hand again. Bilbo grinned up at him, feeling heat curl in his stomach. Just simply being near Thorin made him so happy.

 

“Excuse me, your highness, but may I intrude on your companion for a dance?”

 

Bilbo and Thorin turned to blink at the hobbit lad that stood before them, a devious smile on his face and his eyes filled with trouble.

 

Thorin opened his mouth to speak but Bilbo quickly elbowed him in the ribs, nodding to the older hobbit that was hovering nearby, a chaperone. If Bilbo refused this hobbit’s dance with no good reason it would be seen as a rude snub, and Bilbo would get in trouble.

 

“Of course,” Bilbo said with a forced smile. He looked up at Thorin and his smile became genuine. “I’ll return after the dance.”

 

Thorin nodded sharply and shot the hobbit a dark glare. Bilbo took the hand offered to him with a weary sigh.

 

“Bilbo Baggins, yes?” the hobbit asked as he led Bilbo to the floor. “Nick Cotton.”

 

“A pleasure,” Bilbo responded politely. His eyes drifted back to Thorin who was watching them like a hawk. “Shall we?”

 

They danced, Bilbo not really putting his heart into it. The song seemed to drag on, and Nick would not stop talking. Under any other circumstances Bilbo would have considered him attractive, with his red-tinged curls and bright green eyes, but Bilbo’s thoughts were captivated by black hair and blue eyes.

 

The song ended and Bilbo moved to slip away, but Nick held his hands tight. He smiled at Bilbo, eyes pleading.

 

“One more dance, please?” he begged. Bilbo sighed heavily before nodding. He really had no choice, lest the chaperones descend on him to show their displeasure.

 

“Of course,” Bilbo said tightly, allowing Nick to drag him back out onto the floor.

 

“So, Bilbo,” Nick began as the dragged Bilbo around the floor. “Tell me ab-”

 

“Excuse me, may I cut in?”

 

Bilbo stared up at Legolas in shock, not sure if he was safer with Nick or not. Legolas didn’t wait for a response; he merely extracted Nick’s hands from his and swept off with _him,_ leaving Bilbo gaping in shock. A smile split his face as Nick and Legolas moved through the crowd, the hobbit clearly as shocked as Bilbo was. Bilbo hurried back to the table to find Thorin, laughing as the prince was scanning the crowd almost frantically.

 

“Looking for someone?” Bilbo asked cheekily from behind him. Thorin spun and sighed in relief at the sight of him, reaching out a hand to touch his face. Bilbo leant into the calloused hand, enjoying the feel of it against him.

 

A throat cleared behind them and Bilbo turned to look guiltily at the chaperone there, an elder dwarf lady who was staring at them with a disapproving frown on her face. Thorin scowled back twice as harsh before he turned back to Bilbo, the frustration clear in his eyes.

 

Bilbo simply took Thorin’s hand in his own with a sigh, smiling softly at the prince. He wanted more, wanted to be able to lean against Thorin’s chest and sway to the music, and wanted to be able to _kiss_ him! But he would abide by the rules of the Hall, lest he and Thorin are separated and unable to court at all.

 

Bilbo watched as Legolas released Nick as the dance ended. Nick made no move to seek Bilbo out, clearly now smitten with the elf. Bilbo smiled at the elf when he caught his eye. Thorin may have a crazy dislike of them – a lot like Bilbo’s dislike of Brandybucks – but Bilbo found no problem with them. Yes it seemed Legolas liked to stir Thorin up, but he was also looking out for his happiness it seemed. Good political relations and all that, Bilbo supposed.

 

The night grew late quickly, the large clock in the corner ticked down the time until the dwarrows had to leave, marked on the face. Bilbo and Thorin left early, Bofur trailing behind as a watchful chaperone. Their hands brushed teasingly until Thorin reached out and took Bilbo’s. Thorin walked Bilbo back to Bag End, pausing at the door and glancing down at Bofur. Bofur rolled his eyes with a huff, but suddenly became very interested in the state of Bilbo’s letterbox.

 

Thorin moved in, pressing Bilbo gently against the door and sealing his lips over the hobbit’s. Bilbo whimpered softly into his mouth as Thorin’s hand came up to cup his face, the other hand still grasping Bilbo’s tightly. Bilbo willingly opened his mouth for Thorin, who slid his tongue in easily.

 

Bofur cleared his throat loudly and they tore apart. Bilbo chuckled softly before pressing another kiss to Thorin’s lips. Thorin sighed and released his hand before stroking his face softly and backing away.

 

“Good night,” Bilbo murmured with a smile. Thorin smiled at him.

  
“Indeed it is,” he replied with a look up at the sky. “Indeed it is.”

  
With that, Thorin strode off down the lane, dragging a cheerfully waving Bofur with him. Bilbo watched them until they were out of sight, unable to keep the smile off his face.

 

That night as Bilbo readied himself for bed he paused by his vanity and opened the velvet lined box his bracelets had come in. He ran his fingers over the box before he smiled widely and unclasped the bracelet on his right wrist. He removed it and clasped it back together, setting it into the box and closing it. He rubbed the skin where it had sat, his smile almost hurting his face.

 

He slept well that night, better than he could remember for a long time, and his smile followed him into his sleep.

 


	9. Dynamic Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets dumped with a couple of little visitors for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to HiddenByFaeries for beta-ing!

Bilbo sighed happily, a puff of smoke following the breath as he closed his eyes and leant back against the bench he was seated on. It was a peaceful Sterday, the sky dusted with enough clouds to soften the glare of the sun, but not enough to mask its warmth. A playful breeze danced along Bagshot Row, bringing the smell of fresh flowers to Bilbo’s nose.

 

“Master Boggins! Master Boggins!”

 

Bilbo pressed his eyes even tighter closed before sliding them open. Sure enough, two familiar dwarflings stood at his gate, bouncing with excitement. Their mother stood behind them, an amused smile on her face.

 

“Your highness,” Bilbo greeted her with a smile as he rose from his seat. “This is indeed a surprise.”

 

“Bilbo, it is good to see you,” Dís said as Fíli pushed the gate open. “Do you mind…?”

 

“Not at all, not at all!” Bilbo waved them through. Kíli was the first to approach, wrapping himself around Bilbo’s legs. “What can I do for you? Or are you just stopping by for a visit?”

 

“Actually, I was hoping to ask a favour of you,” Dís herself had not come through the gate. She simply took the pack slung over her shoulder and handed it to Fíli, her eyes alight with a mischief that made Bilbo nervous. “You see, the boys here greatly enjoy your company, and it has been so long since my husband and I had any time to ourselves…”

 

“So we’re going to stay here!” Kíli chirped from around Bilbo’s waist. “A proper night in a hobbit hole, right, Fíli?”

 

“Right!” Fíli grinned up at Bilbo. Bilbo blinked at him, startled, and looked back to Dís. He was shocked to see she had already closed the gate and was backing away slowly.

 

“What?” Bilbo looked between the dwarrows. “Stay the night?”

 

“Oh, I knew you’d understand, thank you Bilbo!” Dís gushed before turning on her heel and taking off down the lane, shouting over her shoulder as she ran. “Be good, boys! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

 

“Bye mama!” the two princes chimed in unison. Bilbo watched her go with poorly disguised horror on his face.

 

“Come on, Master Boggins!” Kíli tugged at his waist. “Lunch time!”

 

“Oh my…” Bilbo rested a hand on Kíli’s head, his eyes wide with worry. When he had last taken care of the dwarflings it had been late at night, they had already been sleepy and full of food. Now he had the heir of the crown prince of Erebor and his hyperactive younger brother in his home, and there was no telling what a handful they would be.

 

“Come _on,_ Master Boggins!”

 

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Princess Dís was a truly evil dwarf, the likes of which the world had never seen.

 

Kíli, while no longer a hurricane of mischief and destruction, was still a tornado of energy and excitement. Fíli was slightly more contained, but only marginally. He allowed himself to be swept up in Kíli’s madness and in the end Bilbo could only sit and watch as they raced through his garden, kicking up dirt and flowers everywhere. They had forgone shoes, eager to play like ‘real hobbit children’.

 

Bilbo puffed at his pipe as he watched Fíli tackle Kíli. The boys went down in a giggling heap, rolling over each other in a mockery of wrestling. Fíli had managed to pin Kíli before he was kicked off by the younger dwarf. They scrambled across the garden until they came across several branches and began a frantic swordfight.

 

Bilbo could see a few of his neighbours peeking over the fence to watch eyes curious and disapproving. Bilbo glared at them harshly until they slunk off. Fíli and Kíli continued to battle with each other, war cries sounding through the garden. To Bilbo’s amusement, Fíli was pretending to be Dwalin, while Kíli had taken on the role of Thorin.

 

It wasn’t long until Fíli had disarmed Kíli, but the younger dwarf scrambled away and found several pinecones to hurl at his brother with startling accuracy until Fíli was begging for mercy.

 

Kíli cheered his victory before scrambling over to Bilbo, grinning up at him with his eyes full of mischief.

 

“I won!” he proclaimed proudly. Bilbo smoothed a hand over his hair tenderly,

 

“Well done, Kíli,” Bilbo chuckled. Kíli stamped his foot irritably.

 

“No! I’m Thorin!” he insisted. “And now we have to go get married!”

 

Fíli snorted behind him and hurried over to tug on Kíli’s arm.

 

“Come on, Kíli, let’s play another game!” he insisted. “Kíli, come on!”

 

Kíli shook off Fíli’s arm and gave Bilbo an incredibly serious look; his dark eyes searching Bilbo’s honey ones.

 

“If Uncle hurts you, I’ll stab him with my practice sword,” Kíli said seriously. “And then I will marry you myself.”

 

Fíli dissolved into giggles at that and Bilbo simply stared at Kíli in shock. “Oh my… Oh dear, Kíli, don’t let Thorin hear you say that.”

 

“But it’s true,” Kíli insisted as Bilbo stood and took his hand, leading him back towards the hobbit hole. “Mister Dwalin says we’re coming along with our swords really well. I’ll beat Thorin fair and square and win you for myself.”

 

Fíli was roaring with laughter behind them now as Bilbo hurried them into the kitchen, more than a little flustered. He settled them at the table and set about making afternoon tea. Fíli was humming softly to himself as he fiddled with a small chunk of wood he was carving with a knife. The knife was mostly blunt and the wood was soft, so Fíli wouldn’t hurt himself.

 

Kíli however, sat stock still, eyes on Bilbo the entire time. Even when the plate of biscuits had been set before him, Kíli ate them with calm bites, eyes fixed on the hobbit.

 

Bilbo sighed and sipped his tea. This was not the first time something like this had happened. Why, when they were younger Drogo had been hopelessly infatuated with him until he had grown up enough to realize that it was just hero-worship he was feeling. It was cute, and harmless, as long as Fíli didn’t blow this out of proportion for his brother.

 

“Alright, boys, a story?” Bilbo asked as soon as the plates were empty. Fíli nodded eyes still on the carving. Kíli bounced on his seat, clapping his hands together eagerly.

 

Bilbo led them into the drawing room, settling into the large armchair. Fíli settled by the fire, keeping his carvings to a neat little pile. Kíli scrambled up to sit on Bilbo’s lap, expelling the air from Bilbo’s lungs with a sharp huff. Kíli was not a small dwarfling, after all. Bilbo settled him more comfortably before picking up his chosen book and opening it.

 

As he began to read Kíli nuzzled up to him, curled against him. Bilbo couldn’t help but press a kiss to Kíli’s head, reminded so much of his young cousins.

 

He didn’t notice Fíli’s eyes filled with mischief as he watched them from the floor.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Settling children down for the night was a horror, Bilbo thought. He had settled both boys in a different room this time, further down the hall. The room was made for children with two identical beds. He settled Kíli in one and turned to find Fíli gone, run off down the hall. Once he had caught the elder and dragged him back, he found Kíli gone. He settled Fíli and headed off to find Kíli, only to have the situation repeat.

 

Once he finally got the two rascals settled down he shut the door and leant against it with a heavy sigh. He was truly exhausted. He just wanted to crawl into bed and rest until Dís’ return. He shuffled down the hall towards his own room, slumping onto the seat at the vanity. He stared at his reflection, chuckling at the tired expression and childish braids that Fíli had plaited there earlier.

  
His gaze shifted to the box to the side and he blushed, running a hand over the lid before opening it slowly. He stared at the bracelet within, and wondered once more if he was perhaps being too bold. It was too late to change his mind now though. He had been seen without his bracelet, there was no going back now.

 

Bilbo dragged himself to bed, hurrying through his night-time routine and sinking into the bed. He snuggled himself down into the blankets and eyed the candle on the nightstand. He sat up reluctantly and blew it out. Settling back into the blankets he willed sleep to come quickly. However, his thoughts weighed heavily on his mind.

 

Chief amongst his thoughts was Thorin, of course. Bilbo longed to see him again, to see his reaction to the removal of the bracelet. He wondered if Thorin would remove one of his own, or if Bilbo was expecting too much.

 

Bilbo rolled over in bed, chuckling to himself. If Thorin removed his own bracelet they could touch more, they could kiss in public, and they could be alone in a room, if a chaperone was present in the next one over.

 

And if they both took the final step and swapped their final bracelets… Bilbo’s face heated up at that. If that happened, they would be considered engaged. And the rules weren’t as strict any more. Decades ago they would not be allowed the liberties they could take now, they would not be allowed to do what engaged couples could do now… and what they could do…

 

Bilbo bit his lip, squirming under the covers. The courting rules, while so strict in the beginning, lessened considerably when the couples became committed to each other. It wasn’t spoken of, not in polite society, but when couples became engaged it was much like they were already married.

 

Bilbo rolled onto his stomach and hid his face in the pillow. He couldn’t help but think of what would happen if they exchanged bracelets… if Thorin would take his hand, lead him to the bedroom… if Thorin would slowly strip his clothes off, or if he would tear them off impatiently… if Thorin would be gentle and teasing, or ruthless and passionate…

 

Bilbo groaned as he squashed these thoughts down before they got too out of hand. Not with little dwarflings in the house.

 

Still, he could dream of the pleasant life they could have. Of Thorin settled down in front of the fire, pipe in one hand, important royal document in his other hand. Bilbo would bustle past, putting out lights. He would snatch the document from Thorin’s surprised grip, ignoring the demands for the paper to be returned. He would set the paper on the desk behind them. Thorin would wave his pipe indigently, and Bilbo would take that too. Once that was safely on its holder – placed next to Bilbo’s – Bilbo would settle onto Thorin’s lap, cutting off any protests. Thorin’s hands would come up to hold Bilbo’s hips, holding him on his lap. Bilbo would bury his hands into Thorin’s hair and tug gently, a cheeky smile on his face.

 

He would suggest they head to bed, as it had been a long day. Thorin would agree and Bilbo would move to slide off his lap. Instead, Thorin would tug him closer and stand, causing Bilbo to wrap his legs around Thorin with a squeak. Thorin would laugh and carry him off towards the bedroom, his hands slipping low to Bilbo’s rear under the pretence of ‘adjusting his grip.’

 

With these most pleasant thoughts in his head Bilbo drifted off to sleep.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

To Bilbo’s great shock and great suspicion, he was woken the next morning by Fíli and Kíli bringing him a sloppily made breakfast. The porridge was lumpy, the orange juice full of pulp and the toast slightly burnt, but Bilbo thanked them profusely and ate the whole meal. He weaselled out of Fíli later that Kíli was worried that Bilbo thought his behaviour the night before when they had been put to bed was out of line, and that Bilbo would send him home again. Bilbo didn’t mention it to Kíli as the boy drew on a scrap of parchment, but he pressed a kiss to the dark hair and told him he was a good boy. The blinding smile he got in returned warmed his heart.

 

It was midday, after lunch, that Dis came for her sons. She swept unannounced into the hobbit hole, her eyes alight and her face flushed. She had pinched Fíli’s cheeks until they were red and the boy irritable, and then had pulled Kíli into a hug where she waltzed him across the room. Both boys now equally irritable, they had grumbled even more when their mother had set about packing up their things.

 

Bilbo walked them as far as the Hobbiton markets, where Drogo barrelled into him and dragged him away. Deeply annoyed at his cousin, Bilbo had waved the dwarrows off and had irritably tended to his cousin’s dilemma, which it turns out was simply the upcoming dinner he had at Brandy Buck Hall with Primula’s family.

 

Deeply annoyed at his cousin, Bilbo sent him on his way with a few choice words depicting his opinion on Brandybucks, and trudged back to Bag End, head down, dejected.

 

He half-heartedly made plans to write for the rest of the evening, perhaps work on one of his books or start a new one. And he needs to tidy up after the children, make sure the house is in order.

 

Bilbo gets none of this done, however, for when he returns to Bag End he finds a patrol from the mountain waiting for him, bringing with them a royal summons from King Thráin himself.

 


	10. Hapless Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone always paints Thranduil as the bad guy, the big abuser, the dick. I like him. I think it shows JUST A LITTLE in this chapter...

The great throne room of Erebor was renowned far and wide, among men and elves, for its great splendour. The walkway, a thin bridge where only three could walk side by side was as sturdy as any structure in Erebor, though it did not stem the anxiety many felt as they marched across it towards the grand throne.

 

Despite being in the centre of the walk, a burly dwarf guard on each side, Bilbo still eyed the edges with worry. It almost took his mind away from that which he was marching towards – the great throne of Erebor itself, the heart of the mountain and the dwarrow’s greatest treasure displayed on it. The Arkenstone.

 

Bilbo had heard tales of its beauty, but actually laying his eyes upon it proved that the stories did not do it justice. The gem was almost _alive,_ swirling in blues, whites and greys. Standing before it Bilbo could almost forget the trepidation he felt inside him.

 

“Master Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End,” the guard beside him announced, drawing Bilbo back to the present. His eyes drifted down from the Arkenstone to the dwarf seated upon the throne.

 

King Thrain was as an imposing figure as his son. His dark hair was streaked through heavily with grey, until the lighter strands were almost overpowering the colour. His craggy face spoke of age, and his eyes were filled with wisdom, sparkling in his face like a pair of sapphires.

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” Thrain’s eyes drifted over him from head to toe, taking in every nervous, ruffled inch of the hobbit. “Long have I wished an audience with you, the hobbit who has caught the eye of my son and heir. I have heard of you from his many companions, and my own daughter. But it was not until this morning as we broke our fast, and I noticed the lack of bonding bracelet on my son’s right wrist, that I realized just how infatuated Thorin is with you.”

 

Bilbo couldn’t stop the blinding smile that lit up his face if he tried. Thorin had removed a bracelet. Thorin had…

 

“But you see, royal courting is no small matter,” Thrain continued, his eyes narrowed. Bilbo’s smile faded quickly. “Never has the royal line been mingled with that of the hobbits. This proposes a slight… problem.”

 

Bilbo’s hackles rose at that. He drew himself up as tall as he could and glared up at the King.

 

“I am a Baggins of Bag End,” he declared haughtily, startling the King. “My mother was a Took, and a daughter of the Old Took at that! There have been more Thains in the Took line than any other family! So if you are insinuating that I am undeserving of Thorin’s courtship, well then, I’m sure half the Shire would tell you otherwise!”

 

Thrain sat back against the Throne and observed Bilbo for a long moment, during which all of the hobbit’s strength and courage slowly vanished. Thrain seemed to be considering something, and at long last he nodded sharply.

 

“It is agreed then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “You shall have it your way, Master Baggins. Your courtship with my son shall be treated the same as any other courtship under the mountain. I expect the outcome of your quest to be presented to me in two moons time. You will leave no later than a week from now.”

 

Bilbo wasn’t quite sure he had heard that right. He blinked up at Thrain, even as the King dismissed him and the guards took his arms to lead him away.

 

“I say, what just happened?” Bilbo asked, blinking at the guards as he was led away. “Hello? Will someone tell me what happened?”

 

“I’ll take it from here,” another voice joined them as the stepped out of the throne room. Bilbo stared up at Dwalin as he dismissed the guards, placing a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and leading him down the hallway. “Come on, lad, Balin’ll explain.”

 

“I don’t think… I’m not sure what’s happening,” Bilbo spluttered as he was led towards a familiar drawing room. “What does he mean by ‘quest’?”

 

“Oh lad, you should have just kept your mouth shut,” Balin shook his head from the chaise he was seated on. Dwalin shoved Bilbo gently towards it and closed the door behind them. “You’ve agreed to a dwarf courtship, and now you have to follow through.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo repeated. “I thought our courtships were the same?”

 

“They’re the same when interbreeding,” Balin agreed. “When a dwarf courts a hobbit the courtship is as you know it. However, when a dwarf courts another dwarf, it is different.”

 

“Oh my…” Bilbo did not like the sound of that.

 

“If one of the dwarrows is a female and the other a male then the male will head out on a quest. He is given two moons to complete it,” Balin explained. “Upon his return, if he is triumphant, the female dwarf shall present him with an item she created herself.”

 

“Seems… simple,” Bilbo said with a shrug. Balin laughed lowly.

  
“Simple for the female,” Balin agreed. “But not the male. He will have to prove himself. Some may choose to venture deep into the Mirkwood and return with a rare stone, found only there. Others may travel further to the cities of men and procure the finest cloth for the female to make clothing from.”

 

“I see…” Bilbo mumbled, staring down at his knees.

 

“If the courting couple is two females,” Balin continued. “They will simply make each other items of great worth. Unless they are warriors and choose to head out on quests themselves. If the pair is male, then they will both prove themselves in quests.”

 

“And that is what Thrain expects of me?” Bilbo leapt to his feet, horrified. “I have never left the Shire before! I haven’t even been to Dale!”

 

“He _was_ going to have you simply create Thorin an item to prove your worth,” Balin said with a deep sigh. “And then you yelled at him. Now he believes you wish to prove yourself.”

 

“Oh my…” Bilbo felt dizzy all of a sudden. “Oh my, oh my…”

 

“Indeed,” Dwalin laughed from the doorway. “Now, you have a week to plan a quest!”

 

“Brother, please,” Balin said with a warning glare. Bilbo sunk back down onto the chaise, not sure if he understood correctly.

 

“I have to go on a quest,” Bilbo began. “To procure an item that proves how much Thorin means to me?”

 

“Aye,” Balin nodded. “Thorin will be doing the same.”

 

Bilbo gnawed at his bottom lip and gazed up at Dwalin with wide eyes.

 

“Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?”

 

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Mumbling to himself, Bilbo made his way through the hallways of Erebor. He was sure Dwalin had said to take three lefts and then two rights. Or was it two lefts and three rights? He had yet to come across any turns at all, so it was all looking the same to him.

 

“Master Baggins!”

 

Bilbo stuttered to a halt, blinking around. An open door stood to his left and he made his way to it.

 

It was a drawing room, similar to the one he had just left, but more extravagant. The furniture was also larger, made for men and…

 

Elves.

 

Prince Legolas was standing by the open door, a small smile on his beautiful face. Peering further into the room Bilbo was surprised to see King Thranduil himself, sprawled out over a long chaise lounge.

 

“Come inside, meet my father,” Legolas insisted, dragging Bilbo into the room. “Father, meet Bilbo Baggins.”

 

“Master Baggins,” Thranduil tilted his head to the side, his eyes dancing down Bilbo’s frame. “The one Prince Thorin is courting.”

 

“Yes, sire,” Bilbo shuffled awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Aren’t you a polite little thing,” Thranduil’s smile was slow and mysterious, seeping some warmth into his icy blue eyes. “So wasted on mortality.”

 

Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He allowed Legolas to lead him to a large armchair and he awkwardly clambered up onto it. Legolas swept over to stand behind his father, resting a hand on the King’s shoulder.

 

“Tell me what troubles you, young hobbit,” Thranduil commanded, as he patted his son’s hand fondly. Bilbo stared down at his feet, embarrassed.

 

“I, uh, will be going on a quest in a weeks’ time,” he said softly. “I have never left the Shire before.”

 

“Indeed?” Thranduil raised a dark eyebrow. “And what quest shall you partake on?”

 

“I haven’t a clue,” Bilbo admitted. “I am completely at a loss.”

 

“Troubling indeed,” Thranduil murmured. He looked up at his son, a smile on his face. “Legolas, dear, some refreshments for our guest?”

 

Legolas nodded and hurried to obey, darting out the door quickly. Thranduil’s eyes remained fixed on him until he was out of sight before they returned to Bilbo.

 

“He’s a lovely elf,” Bilbo offered awkwardly. Thranduil preened at the small praise.

 

“The best,” he boasted. “The finest archer in all of Mirkwood and beyond.”

 

“You must be proud,” Bilbo could clearly already see that this was the case, but it seemed like the thing to say. “As must be his mother.”

 

The smile fell straight from Thranduil’s face, and his eyes darkened.

 

“There is no mother,” he said, voice as cold as ice. “I bore him myself.”

 

“I see,” Bilbo squirmed under the gaze of the King. “Your consort must-”

 

“No,” Thranduil cut him off rudely. “No consort. I raised him alone. Legolas is entirely mine.”

 

“I see,” Bilbo stared at his feet again. This was obviously a sensitive subject for the King. Maybe his lover perished in battle? “May I ask what brings you to Erebor, sire?”

 

“Politics,” Thranduil relaxed at the change of subject. “Though what Thrain thinks I can do I have no idea. I will probably worsen things.”

 

“Worsen things?” Bilbo prompted, confused. Thranduil’s face became closed off.

 

“Imladris, Master Baggins, the elves of Rivendell,” his voice was dripping with contempt. “They have never been on good terms with the dwarrows of Erebor. Almost the opposite. The slight began when the dwarrows undermined their offer to the hobbits, actually. Imladris thought that they were being insulted, that the dwarrows were insinuating that they could not offer as great a location or protection as the hobbits could find here.”

 

Bilbo squirmed at that, almost feeling personally responsible.

 

“Relations worsened over time,” Thranduil continued, his lip curling into a cruel sneer. “ _Lord Elrond_ focused his attention on making good with the men nearby. The only communication to be had between Mirkwood and Erebor to Imladris was via Lothlórien.”

 

“And you are here because…” Bilbo prompted. Thranduil sighed dramatically and leaned his head back on the chaise, eyes closed.

 

“Because Thrain _insists_ we make good with Imladris,” Thranduil said, as though this was a great travesty. “And Lady Galadriel agrees. So here I am, treated like an errant child, as part of a council deciding what we will do.”

 

Personally Bilbo thought Thranduil was acting like a child and Thrain was right to treat him as such. He seemed to bear a personal grudge against Rivendell.

 

“What’s so wrong with Rivendell, may I ask, sire?” Bilbo asked. Thranduil smiled and sat up, eyes distant as he looked into the burning fireplace.

 

“Nothing at all, Master Baggins,” he said with a fond smile. “Imladris is quite beautiful. I used to visit there often when my father was still on the throne. The gardens are the most beautiful in all of Middle-Earth, even more so than those found in Lothlórien.”

 

“So then…” Bilbo hesitated before decided he might as well ask. “What is so wrong with Lord Elrond, then?”

 

Thranduil’s eyes snapped straight to Bilbo, and the hobbit was shocked by the hatred and sorrow in them.

 

“Lord Elrond is a disgrace and shame to the elvish race,” Thranduil said harshly. “The blood of Men flows through his veins, and he takes the name Peredhil with pride.”

 

“And yet he is the Lord of Imladris?” Bilbo asked, shocked. “But why would one so-”

 

“Because the Lady Galadriel wills it so,” Thranduil snapped. “Fools, both of them. Rings of Power will do that to you. It addles the mind and poisons the body.”

 

Thranduil shot to his feet, stalking like a great snow leopard. Power and anger filled every inch of his body.

 

“Galadriel waves Nenya and all bow down, as though it _means_ something,” Thranduil snarled. “And Lord Elrond boasts about his healing skills to all who would hear it, though Vilya is the reason he has such skills! They are fools for relying so on the rings, and it will be their downfall!”

 

Thranduil whirled to face Bilbo and stuttered to a halt, staring down at him. All at once, the anger and rage faded from him, and he collapsed on the chaise. His face was drawn and pale as he curled back up on it.

 

“Forgive me, Bilbo,” Thranduil whispered softly. “I have carried this anger for a great many years.”

 

“Your majesty,” Bilbo whispered, sliding off the seat and crossing to the King. “How long have you been Fading for?”

 

Thranduil laughed dryly, though it turned into a bitten off sob. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple.

 

“For a great many years now,” he murmured. “I will not Fade, not while my son remains beside me, but the symptoms remain. I shall remain in this half-state for as long as I live, Bilbo.”

 

Bilbo wanted to ask why the King was fading, but the door swung open, cutting off his question. Legolas hurried in, a tray before him. He looked up and froze, his eyes darting from his father to Bilbo. He set the tray down on the sideboard and rushed to his father’s side.

 

“Adar! What happened?” Legolas helped his father to sit up, cradling an arm around his slender shoulders. Thranduil smiled tiredly at his son, resting against him heavily.

 

“I am well, ion nîn,” Thranduil reassured him. “I believe I shall retire for the day.”

 

Thranduil pushed himself shakily to his feet and bowed his head slightly to Bilbo. Bilbo hurried returned the gesture.

 

“A pleasure, Master Baggins,” he murmured. “I hope we will be able to speak again.”

 

Legolas watched his father go, worry visible in his silver eyes. He turned his gaze back to Bilbo, a fire springing up in the depths of the twin silver pools.

 

“These negotiations toll heavily on my father, Bilbo. His hatred of Lord Elrond makes him worse,” Legolas said. “So that’s why _you_ should go to Imladris!”

 

“I shou- what?” Bilbo recoiled in shock. “No! I can’t go to Imladris!”

 

“Yes, you must!” Legolas insisted, his eyes dancing with excitement. “It can be your quest! You can go to Imladris, retrieve one of the famed daggers they forge there for Thorin and talk to Lord Elrond! You can fix what has happened between him and Father. Tell him that if he spoke to Father all would be well! They can sort out their differences and be friends like they used to, long ago!”

 

“Legolas, this is ridiculous!” Bilbo cried. “I can’t travel to Imladris alone! It’s a two week journey!”

 

“Two week by horse,” Legolas agreed. “But the journey only takes a week if you travel by ferry along the river.”

 

“And what do I say to Lord Elrond?” Bilbo asked. “Oh, hi, I’m a hobbit, sorry for shunning your offer all those hundreds of years ago, but can you stop arguing with Thranduil, even though he’s a massive child about it?”

 

Bilbo slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified at what he had just said. Legolas however, laughed.

 

“That might be a good way to open,” Legolas agreed. His eyes turned pleading. “Oh, please, Bilbo. I’ll give you enough coin to purchase the weapon and travel there, and I’ll make sure you’re not alone.”

 

“And who will accompany me?” Bilbo asked, frustrated in himself that he was even considering this.

 

“An elf from Lothlórien,” Legolas said, his eyes lighting up. “Please, Bilbo, please.”

 

Bilbo groaned buried his face in his hands. Legolas laughed triumphantly, pleased that he had won.

 

“Very well, your highness,” Bilbo sighed. “I’ll travel to Rivendell to get this dagger. And if, on the way, I talk to Lord Elrond, then so be it.”

 

“You won’t regret this, Bilbo,” Legolas insisted. “I promise you that.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Bilbo was already regretting it.

 

He had left the drawing room after Legolas promised to drop by in two days’ time to organize the journey. He had hurried through the corridors of Erebor behind a helpful dwarf girl who had shown him the way to the main hall again.

 

Thorin had found him there.

 

The dwarf prince swept across the hall to Bilbo and grasped his right hand. He drew it up and pushed back the coat covering it until the wrist was visible, the lack of bonding bracelet obvious.

 

Thorin growled deep in his throat and pressed a kiss to the wrist, right where Bilbo’s pulse was. Bilbo felt his face heat up at the public display, but that was nothing compared to what happened next.

 

Thorin used the hold on Bilbo’s wrist to tug him forward, and the hobbit stumbled into his arms. Thorin held him close, never releasing the wrist from his grip. He crashed his lips down onto Bilbo’s, swallowing his squeak of surprise as he devoured him hungrily.

 

Bilbo whimpered into Thorin’s mouth as the dwarf drew him closer, their bodies pushed together. Bilbo had just buried his hands into long dark hair when a small voice sounded beside them.

 

“Ge’ _off_ him, Uncle Thorin!”

 

Bilbo drew back from Thorin and blinked down at Kíli who was battering at Thorin’s knees with his sword. Thorin sighed in exasperation and ruffled his nephew’s hair.

 

“We’ve advanced in our courting, Kíli,” Thorin grunted. “This is allowed.”

 

“I don’t care!” Kíli shouted. “You can’t have him!”

 

Bilbo buried his face in Thorin’s chest as the dwarf glared down at his nephew. Kíli glared right back up at him.

 

“You’ll see, Uncle,” Kíli said stubbornly. “I’ll marry Bilbo one day.”

 

With that, the little prince took off across the hall, sword dragging behind him. Thorin stared after him with narrowed eyes.

 

Bilbo reached up and tugged at Thorin’s hair, drawing his attention back down to him. He smiled at Thorin’s annoyed expression.

 

“He’ll grow out of it,” he promised. He leaned up to brush a shy kiss to Thorin’s lips. Thorin instantly deepened the kiss, an edge of desperation in the touch.

 

“I will speak with my father,” Thorin murmured as he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Bilbo’s. “You will not need to go on a quest, it is ridiculous.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Bilbo mumbled as he shuffled closer to Thorin. “The idea has kind of grown on me.”

 

“It’s ludicrous,” Thorin grunted. “I won’t allow it.”

 

Bilbo stiffened and stepped away from the circle of Thorin’s arms.

 

“You think I can’t do it?” he asked, brow furrowed. Thorin smiled and reached down to cup Bilbo’s face.

 

“The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves,” Thorin said softly. “Stay here.”

 

Bilbo could feel it again. The same indignation he had felt when Thrain had spoken to him, rising up inside him, unable to be squashed.

 

“I can do anything I set my mind to,” Bilbo declared. “And what I’ve set my mind on is this quest!”

 

“Bilbo, don’t be ridiculous,” Thorin wasn’t smiling any more.

 

“I’m not!” Bilbo snapped. “You are!”

 

“Bilbo, I won’t allow this,” Thorin growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”

 

“Yes I am!” Bilbo shouted, stomping his foot. “And you can’t stop me!”

 

With that Bilbo took off across the hall. He could hear Thorin shouting his name behind him, but Bilbo kept running. He didn’t stop as he made his way through the Great Gates and down towards the Shire.

 

He would show Thorin.


	11. Hopeful Hobbits

Foot, meet mouth.

 

It was Trewsday, and Legolas had just finished explaining the journey he had planned out. He had brought with him the Lothlórien elf who would be accompanying him. Haldir was so icy he made Thranduil seem warm. His hair was as blond as Legolas’s, and his dark eyes didn’t miss a thing.

 

They would start in Laketown, board a ferry that would take them down the Forest River until they reached the station where the Forest Road began. They would take that through Mirkwood to the High Pass, and then on to Rivendell.

 

Simple, in theory.

 

Bilbo was a bit hung up on the ferry. Hobbits and water mixed around as well as dwarrows and water did. Still, Haldir had assured him, in a low, flat voice that he would be keeping him safe.

 

Bilbo had shown them out shortly after that, still in a bad mood. Thorin had yet to visit, and Bilbo was _not_ going to trudge up to the mountain to see the prince first.

 

Bilbo tried to write and ended up moping instead. They were not leaving until Mersday, as Haldir had ‘business’ to attend to, so until the elf was ready Bilbo was stuck waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

 

Ori came that afternoon, annoyed that Fíli and Kíli had spent the night, but he had not. He brought Gimli with him, but assured Bilbo that the young dwarf’s father would be coming to pick him up after dinner. He was too young to spend the night away from home.

 

Bilbo welcomed the distraction, cooking up several meals for the dwarrows to eat. Ori had hummed his pleasure and dug in while Gimli happily dug his hands into the bowl and proceeded to make a mess.

 

When Glóin collected his son the dwarf was already half asleep, grumbling into Bilbo’s neck before he was passed over to his father. Bilbo was sure that Gimli’s entire vocabulary consisted of grunts and grumbles.

 

Ori had curled up against Bilbo’s chest as the hobbit read to him by the fire. Bilbo stroked his back fondly, happy for the company.

 

“Mister Baggins,” Ori mumbled as the story wound down. “When you marry Prince Thorin will you still read to me?”

 

“Of course, Ori,” Bilbo pressed a kiss to auburn hair. “Any time you want.”

 

“But I’ve never been to Prince Thorin’s quarters,” Ori protested. “Will I be allowed there?”

 

“Why would you go there?” Bilbo asked with a frown. “I will be here.”

 

“But when you marry the Prince you will move into the mountain,” Ori insisted. “That’s what they all say.”

 

“I…” Bilbo stared around at his cozy little hobbit hole. It had been in his family for years, his father had it built for his mother, filled it with comforts and trinkets, and it was the envy of all in the Shire. Bilbo did not want to leave it.

 

“Mister Bilbo?”

 

“Shh, Ori,” Bilbo hushed the child. “Do not worry about it. I promise I will come see you.”

 

These thoughts plagued Bilbo long after he put Ori to bed. He wandered around his hole, touching all the little things that had become so dear to him. His mother’s glory box. His father’s armchair. His grandfather’s hatstand. Bilbo could not imagine a life without these things.

 

When Bilbo slumped before his vanity that night he didn’t touch his bonding box. It was too painful to dwell on. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if Thorin proposed and demanded he moved into the mountain. There was no way Bilbo could say no to him, not after taking the courting so far, but Bilbo did not want to leave his hobbit hole.

 

And there was no way Thorin would move in.

 

He was the Crown Prince. He couldn’t leave the mountain!

 

Bilbo slumped to bed, heart heavy and head aching from resisting the urge to cry.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Dori came to collect Ori the next morning. He bustled around Bilbo’s home, helping him tidy up and questioning him on various recipes. Bilbo was thankful for the company, and little Ori seemed delighted that Bilbo was getting along with his family.

 

But when they left Bilbo was left alone to his thoughts. Thorin _still_ had not come by, and Bilbo was beginning to fret. What if Thorin was done with him? What if he had pushed him too far?

 

“Oh bother and damnation,” Bilbo grumbled as he puffed on his pipe. He was seated out on his front bench, staring up at the sky. Usually this was a peaceful spot, and Bilbo loved to spend his time in contemplation, but today his mind would not be calm. “Confusticate these dwarrows.”

 

“And what did the dwarrows do to on the receiving end of such annoyance, Bilbo Baggins?”

 

Bilbo blinked in surprise at the sudden visitor standing at his gate. He was vaguely familiar. He was a man, tall and robed in grey. His beard was long, as was the hair poking out from under his hat. He leant heavily on his staff as he stared down at Bilbo.

 

“…Good Morning,” Bilbo greeted him with an awkward wave of his pipe.

 

“What do you mean, good morning?” the man repeated in his deep voice. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

 

“…All of them at once, I suppose,” Bilbo mumbled. “Can I help you?”

 

“That remains to be seen,” he said. “I’m looking for someone willing to share on an adventure.”

 

Bilbo stared up at the man, still curious as to where he knew him from. A month ago Bilbo would have sent the man away without a second thought, being far too respectable to engage on such things as _adventures._

 

But that was a month ago.

 

In that time, Bilbo had faced down two Kings, danced with two princes and had turned the whole Kingdom under the mountain into an uproar.

 

“Well, I wish I could help you,” Bilbo said, taking the pipe from his mouth. “But I’m already engaging on my own adventure in a day.”

 

“Is that so…” the man’s eyes twinkled and he chuckled fondly. “Just what I expect from Belladonna Took’s son.”

 

“Oh, you knew my mother!” Bilbo stood at once, hurrying towards the gate. “Please, come in, Mister…”

 

“I’m surprised you don’t remember me,” he said as he made his way through the gate. “Am I really that forgettable?

“Your name has slipped my mind,” Bilbo admitted as he led the way to the door. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m _Gandalf,_ ” the man cried. “And Gandalf means… _me._ ”

 

“Not Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such _excellent_ fireworks!” Bilbo exclaimed as he closed the door behind them. “I had no idea you were still in business.”

 

“And where else would I be?” Gandalf muttered as he turned and promptly smacked his head on the chandelier. “That’s new…”

 

“This way,” Bilbo said cheerfully, leading Gandalf to the kitchen. “Sit, sit, please.”

 

Gandalf settled his long body onto a bench, gladly taking the sweetbread that Bilbo offered.

 

“So what adventure did you have in mind?” Bilbo asked as he tore his sweetbread into small pieces.

 

“I’m travelling to Rivendell, to the Last Homely House,” Gandalf said. “To deliver a summons to Lord Elrond from King Thrain.”

 

“Rivendell?” Bilbo lit up with excitement. “That is where I travel to!”

“Indeed?” Gandalf’s eyes sparkled. “Wonderful! I was hoping to have a travelling companion on this journey.”

 

“You shall have two,” Bilbo said cheerfully. “Though I cannot promise Haldir will be entertaining company.”

 

“Haldir,” Gandalf sighed. “Marchwarden of Lothlórien. He always was a sombre fellow.”

 

“Oh it shall be lovely to not be alone with the grumpy elf!” Bilbo said, his mind all at once a lot lighter. “I shall feel very safe indeed.”

 

“And why do you travel to Rivendell, Bilbo?” Gandalf asked. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the hobbit. “Perhaps to find a gift for someone?”

 

“Erm, yes,” Bilbo cleared the plates shyly. “For my… intended…”

 

“Yes, an Imladris dagger would suit Thorin very well,” Gandalf agreed. “You have chosen wisely.”

 

“Tell me, Gandalf,” Bilbo settled a pot of tea between them. “Why does Thrain summon Lord Elrond? Thranduil said-”

 

“Do not listen to anything Thranduil says on the subject of Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said harshly. “His mind has been poisoned by past woes. He is a bitter elf.”

 

“He is _Fading,_ Gandalf,” Bilbo stressed. “Only the Prince keeps him grounded.”

 

“We shall speak no more on Thranduil,” Gandalf sighed. “Lord Elrond is a dear friend of mine. The summons from Thrain is not known on the Council. They are getting nowhere with their negotiations, and Lord Elrond’s representative has found himself outnumbered. He is a strong elf, one of the wisest, but against so much opposition and the bitter words King Thranduil is throwing at him, even Councillor Erestor’s infinite patience is waning.”

 

“So he plans to blindside Thranduil by bringing Lord Elrond in?” Bilbo asked incredulously. “That is horrible!”

 

“King Thranduil is the only one standing in the way of these negotiations,” Gandalf insisted. “He stands in the way of a united Middle-Earth. Representatives from all Kingdoms of men, all settlements of dwarrows and all free folk are there and are working towards a better future. Except the King of Mirkwood.”

 

“I think you’re all too hard on him,” Bilbo said stubbornly. “He is misunderstood.”

 

“As you say, Bilbo,” Gandalf said with a fond smile. “He is lucky to have such a stern champion in you.”

 

“Enough of these talks,” Bilbo said as he willed away his blush. “You shall stay here, yes? Mother always insisted on keeping at least one man-sized room. I see why now.”

 

“Thank you, Bilbo, but I’m needed at the palace,” Gandalf said as he rose. “I shall return early on the morrow to join you and Haldir.”

 

“Right, right,” Bilbo hurried to show his guest out. “On the morrow then.”

 

Once the wizard was gone Bilbo took a moment to simply breathe. He wasn’t so anxious about this journey now. It had become less about a courting gift and more about helping the politics of Erebor. If that didn’t show what a good consort Bilbo would be he did not know what would.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Haldir roused Bilbo from his bed at first light. Bilbo had stumbled to get dressed, batting away the elf’s hands as he tried to help. It was only when he was awkwardly shoving a bread roll into his mouth that he realized that Haldir was _in his home._

Apparently the elf had let himself in. Bilbo quickly shoved him back outside and finished his breakfast. Once he was sure he was ready to go he joined the irritable elf outside. Ignoring his companion Bilbo watched the sun slowly rise as they waited for Gandalf.

 

The wizard finally made his way down Bag Shot Row, humming to himself without a care in the world.

 

"You're late!" Bilbo cried as he hurried through the gate. "We were supposed to leave at first light!"

 

"A wizard is never late, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf scolded him. "He arrives precisely when he means to! I had to take care of a few things before I left."

 

"Like what?" Bilbo grumbled as he fell into step beside Gandalf. Haldir nodded gravely to the wizard, a gesture that was returned, before he took his place behind them. "What could you have been doing?"

 

"Convincing young Thorin _not_ to march down here with a company of soldiers to prevent your leaving!"

 

Bilbo blushed to the tips of his hair at that.

 

"I... I thought he didn't care..." he mumbled into his chest. Gandalf smiled down at him.

 

"On the contrary, Bilbo," he said. "He cares too much. I convinced him that if he were to come down here now, in such a manner, it would only provoke another quarrel. He is headed out on his own quest too. He would have come to see you sooner, only he had to make sure everything is prepared for his absence."

 

It warmed Bilbo's heart to hear that Thorin had wanted to come and see him. Bilbo sighed happily and picked up his pace, whistling cheerfully in the early morning.

 

His whistling cut off abruptly when they arrived at the market place.

 

A large white horse, bare of any saddle, stood waiting for Gandalf. He pawed the ground and bowed his head. Gandalf returned the bow before stroking his face fondly.

 

"Bilbo, meet Shadowfax," he murmured. "The Lord of all horses, and my dear friend. He has asked for volunteers to take us to Rivendell."

 

"There were several. Your kind heart is known throughout the land, Bilbo Baggins."

 

Bilbo started when he realized the soft voice came from the horse himself.

 

"Oh my, th-thank you," he stuttered out. "But I can walk, really."

 

"Nonsense," Gandalf said, leading Bilbo around to a pony, saddled and waiting patiently. "Meet Myrtle. She'll be your steed for the journey."

 

The little pony lipped at Bilbo's coat and stared at him with large adoring eyes. Bilbo buried his hands into her mane, instantly besotted.

 

"There we are," Gandalf chuckled. "You'll be fine."

 

Bilbo eyed the saddle warily, wondering just how he was supposed to swing himself up. The issue was taken out of his hands when Haldir lifted him without a word, ignoring his shriek, and settled him on Myrtle's back. The pony didn't even blink an eyelid.

 

Haldir ignored Bilbo's glare and mounted his own steed, a chestnut mare who bore his light weight as though it were nothing. The elf was taking his role as Bilbo's appointed protector very seriously. Legolas had confessed that something might happen. Apparently Haldir had great respect for Legolas and often overdid it when the Prince asked a task of him.

 

Gandalf murmured a few words to Shadowfax and then they were moving out. Bilbo tried to rock his body with Myrtle like he had seen many riders do but gave up after a while, feeling ridiculous. He would probably be sore, come morrow.

 

A sneeze tore through him suddenly, followed by another. He fumbled for a handkerchief, ignoring Haldir's concerned look.

 

"Oh drat!" he patted his pockets, coming up empty. "Stop! We have to go back, I've forgotten my handkerchief."

 

"You'll have to do without, Bilbo," Gandalf grumbled. "You're off into the wild; there is no place for handkerchiefs or your mother's doilies."

 

Bilbo glared at him and another sneeze shook his body. Haldir thrust a small square of cloth at him without another word, and Bilbo took it, surprised.

 

Maybe the elf wouldn't be that bad on this journey.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Bilbo was once again wrong.

  
The elf was a nightmare.

 

They had reached Laketown in one piece, and Haldir had insisted on helping Bilbo down from Myrtle. They were led to the ferry that would take them on their journey for the day. Bilbo had been hesitant to go near it, watching from a distance as their steeds were led aboard. He had absentmindedly handed the coin Legolas had given him over to Gandalf. A few words were spoken between him and the Man that ran the ferry and they suddenly found themselves with no companions aboard. The ferries ran regularly, several of them at a time, so it was no hardship for the man to move the other passengers to a different boat.

 

Haldir had seen Bilbo's fear of the water and had swept the hobbit up onto his hip, like he was a child. While Bilbo hollered his indignation into the elf's ear Gandalf had snickered into his beard while the Man openly roared in laughter. Haldir had deposited Bilbo safely on deck and stared at him with a bewildered expression when the hobbit berated him.

 

"I do not understand," he said in his flat voice. "You were afraid of falling in. I made sure you did not fall in."

 

"It is degrading to be carried like a human child!" Bilbo cried. "You treat me like a fauntling, too young or stupid to take care of myself."

 

Before Haldir could respond Gandalf bustled between them, shooing them further onto the boat.

 

The ferry was a simple thing. The hull was used to store food and the horses, while on the deck was a simple structure designed to keep the sun and rain off the boat. Flaps of material could be lowered to block out the light or heat. The captain told them to make themselves comfortable and Bilbo settled in to do just that.

 

The base of the on board-hut was solid wood, much to his relief, so he did not have to worry about rolling off into the water at night. He laid out his bedroll and settled down on it, setting aside a few of his possessions in easy reach. Gandalf had set himself up at the rear of the ferry, mumbling to himself as he poked through his own bag.

 

Haldir began to lay his bedroll down beside Bilbo's, but was stopped by the hobbit's glare. He retreated several paces away, towards the front of the ship, and settled there instead.

 

Bilbo sighed softly as he stared down at his feet. This was so strange. He was going on an Adventure. Him! Bilbo Baggins! A good proper adventure, with a wizard, an elf and a horse that could speak! His Took side was rearing its head and Bilbo found himself quite enjoying it!

 

The ferryman began to shout to the men off-shore, and then the boat was lurching. Bilbo shrieked and clutched at the railing as the deck rolled beneath his feet.

 

"You'll find your sea legs soon enough, Master Hobbit!"  the Man laughed. Bilbo pointedly ignored him and managed to pull himself up, staring over the railing.

 

The ferry was making its way up the river, peacefully gliding along on the current. The water was clear and sparkling where it sprayed up into Bilbo's face and the Hobbit sighed at the tranquillity of it all.

 

Perhaps this boat wouldn't be too bad.

 

 


	12. Huffy Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest is begun, though Bilbo doesn't feel very grand!

Bilbo hated boats.

 

Bilbo hated water.

 

Bilbo hated Haldir.

 

Bilbo hated Bain, the Ferryman.

 

After spending the first few hours being ill over the edge of the boat, much to Bain's amusement, Bilbo had been coddled endlessly by Haldir, who had produced a great number of herbs to help settle Bilbo's stomach, but they had the unpleasant side effect of making him extremely drowsy. As it was, the next time Bilbo managed to get a peek at their surroundings they were completely different.

 

They were making good time, apparently, mostly due to the lack of 'complaining peasants' - Bain's words. The Mountains of Mirkwood rose to their right, peeking out through the green canopy of the forest. The forest was beginning to appear on the left side of the river as night fell, and Bain hummed softly before setting the ferry to drift lazily along the currents.

 

"We can't travel too fast at night," Bain explained. "While the hull was made so that if it were to hit the sides of the river it would bounce gently back along, the risk of coming across another ferry is still there. We must have a light burning at all times, and travel slow."

 

Bilbo slept uneasily that night, not liking that Bain seemed content to take naps at the wheel. Only seeing that Haldir remained ever awake soothed Bilbo's nerves. He slept fitfully and woke at first light, joining Haldir by the railing to watch the river flow by them.

 

"I know you do not like me, Bilbo Baggins," Haldir spoke suddenly. "But I will continue to protect you; such is my oath to the Prince."

 

"I never said I didn't like you," Bilbo muttered. "But I'm not a child. You needn't treat me as though I'll break."

 

Haldir did not speak again, though he seemed less tense than before. Gandalf soon joined them as the ferry picked up speed, gazing into the dark woods surrounding them.

 

"You'd best ready yourself, Bilbo," he advised. "We shall be docking soon."

 

Bilbo scurried off to obey, packing his belongings back into his bag. The trees unnerved him, so dark and forbidding. He returned to Haldir's side as soon as he could, hiding behind the elf shamelessly. Haldir placed a hand on his head and glared out into the forest.

 

"This place still unsettles me," he murmured. "It is not like my golden wood. It is dark and evil."

 

"I don't like it," Bilbo confessed. "It... disturbs me."

 

"Even Fangorn is not as foul as this place," Haldir agreed. "Fangorn is a dark and dangerous place, but only if you seek to harm the trees. This place... Legolas says that it his home, and there is no place he feels safer, yet he and his kin have been driven to the caves by the darkness of the forest itself."

 

"We must tread lightly," Gandalf agreed. "The trees here grow without an Ent to guide them, but it is not the trees I fear, rather what hides in them. Without a shepherd the trees are just that; trees. They will not guard against the foul creatures of this world, nor will they protect us from them. We are truly alone in here, my friends."

 

The ferry bumped gently against the station and Bain leapt out to tie the boat up. As soon as the ramp was down the Man gestured for them to depart. Bilbo took one look at the plank of wood and tugged wordlessly at Haldir's arm. The elf didn't say anything as he picked Bilbo up, carrying him over the plank and depositing him on the grass on the other side.

 

Bilbo tugged at his coat as he stared out into the forest. A breeze swept from behind him and ruffled his hair before flowing into the forest and ruffling the trees. Bilbo shivered, and not from the cold. He could only hope that they would move quickly through the woods.

 

Something heavy nudged him from behind and Bilbo scrambled forward, terrified. He turned to find Myrtle watching him with concern. Bilbo sighed softly and buried his hands into her mane.

 

"You scared me, girl," he confessed as he petted her. He peeked over her back to see Gandalf conversing with Bain while Haldir saddled up his mare. He pulled an apple out of his pocket and offered it to Myrtle who took it eagerly. "There's a girl. That'll be our little secret, you must tell no one."

 

Myrtle nudged him again and Haldir strode over. Bilbo sighed and lifted his arms up, allowing the elf to set him on the pony's back.

 

"Keep an eye out, Mister Hobbit," Haldir said with a sly glance at the boat. "I sense the ferryman has not been entirely honest with us."

 

With those cryptic words Haldir returned to his mare and mounted up. Gandalf clasped Bain's hand and mounted Shadowfax, the horse moving to the front of the group with no nudging from the wizard. Myrtle fell into step behind him and Haldir brought up the rear, his finely made bow in hand. The forest closed in around them, but the path was wide. It was the main road through the forest after all; it was wide enough for a handful of men to walk side by side comfortably.

 

"Stay close, Bilbo!" Gandalf called over his shoulder. "And stay alert."

 

"Alert?" Bilbo repeated. "And what can _I_ do if we are accosted in the woods?"

 

"Hide, my dear friend, you can hide," Gandalf said with a shake of his head. "If anything happens to you the dwarf prince will be most displeased. And if anything happens to you I'd hate to see what the _elf_ prince does to Haldir."

 

"Oh bother," Bilbo mumbled as he slumped on the saddle. "Why does everyone see me as a child?"

 

"Thorin doesn't see you as a child, Bilbo," Gandalf said kindly. "He simply does not wish to lose you."

 

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair irritably but said nothing. Behind him Haldir began to sing softly, a haunting elfish croon that surprisingly lifted the darkness of the forest, if only slightly.

 

Bilbo urged Myrtle forward a little faster. He wanted to be out of this forest as quick as he could.

 

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They did not, Bilbo was horrified to note, stop for any meals. Gandalf insisted they keep moving, telling Bilbo to eat on the go. Bilbo had tried to explain that one could not simply rush second breakfast, and that elevensies were an even more delicate meal, but Gandalf had waved it off. Bilbo had grumbled along until Haldir had offered him some lembas bread. He had explained that a single bite would fill the stomach of a full grown man.

 

After Bilbo had eaten four.

 

Needless to say, he didn't complain about skipping the rest of his meals that day. They stopped before nightfall at a small clearing. The made camp to the side, lighting a fire. Gandalf had mumbled something to Haldir before he walked the entire length of their camp with his staff dragging the ground. Odd man.

 

Haldir took first watch, climbing swiftly up a tree to do so. He assured Bilbo he would wake him for a turn after the hobbit had indigently refused to be left out of the duty.

 

Bilbo was woken by Gandalf at sunrise, and was told that Haldir hadn't been able to wake the hobbit and had almost gotten a black eye for his troubles.

 

It took them five days to march through the woods, the trees whispering behind them. Haldir grew more and more tense as they moved through the woods, his eyes falling behind them more often than forward. Finally, with the entrance to the woods only a day's ride ahead, he nudged his horse up to Gandalf's side.

 

"They are getting more and more clumsy," he said to Gandalf. "They will alert the forest if I do not intervene."

 

"Very well," Gandalf sighed. "Bring them up."

 

Haldir nodded before he leapt out of his saddle and _straight into the trees above._ Bilbo gaped up at him as he rode underneath the elf, watching as he faded into the greenery.

 

"Where's he going?" Bilbo asked Gandalf hurriedly. Gandalf raised an eyebrow at him.

 

"To see about those that are following us," Gandalf explained mildly. "He shall return."

 

"Following us?" Bilbo repeated, shocked. "Who's following us?!"

 

"We'll find out when Haldir returns," Gandalf simply said as he puffed his pipe. "Come now; share your pipeweed, Bilbo. I only have a dwarf mix left."

 

Bilbo grumbled and pulled out his pouch, offering it to the wizard. Gandalf hummed in appreciation as he packed his pipe, and Bilbo took out his to do the same.

 

They had made it to another clearing when Gandalf called a halt. Shadowfax nuzzled the mare beside him and whickered to her softly before fixing his eye on Bilbo.

 

"Salah says she will bear you and the elf together," he said with a nod of his head.

 

"Together? Why?" Bilbo asked, clinging to Myrtle's reigns.

 

His answer came in the form of a commotion behind him. He turned in the saddle to see Haldir dragging two familiar figures into the clearing.

 

Nori was grumbling loudly at the elf as he swatted at the hand on his back while Bofur was humming cheerfully to himself, seemingly not noticing the hand directing him.

 

"What are _you_ two doing here?!" Bilbo cried as he slid off of Myrtle. "Did Thorin send you? That stubborn dwarf! I _told_ him I-"

 

"Actually, it was Dís," Bofur interrupted. "She didn't want you gettin' hurt and then Thorin moping."

 

"Go back at once!" Bilbo demanded. He stomped his foot to prove his point. Nori chuckled.

 

"And face the wrath of the Princess?" he asked. "I think not."

 

"Enough dawdling," Gandalf grumbled. "Bilbo, you and Haldir shall ride Salah. Nori, you take Myrtle and Bofur you'll ride with me."

 

Bilbo opened his mouth to demand that the two dwarrows be sent back but Haldir was already moving, lifting Bofur up onto Shadowfax behind Gandalf, much to the dwarrow's annoyance, and then lifting Bilbo onto Salah. He mounted behind the hobbit, securing his arms around Bilbo's waist.

 

"Now if Thorin could see that all diplomacy with the elves would be shot forever," Nori chuckled as he mounted Myrtle. Bilbo flushed and crossed his arms petulantly.

 

"Let us move," Gandalf said with a nod. He nudged Shadowfax forward, Myrtle falling in behind the horse lord.

 

"Wait! Wait! You can't leave me!"

 

The three horses stuttered to a halt at the young voice, and Shadowfax whipped around. Bilbo let out a cry of dismay as little Ori stumbled into the clearing, mud on his face and leaves in his hair.

 

"Ori!" Nori shouted as he slid off of Myrtle. "What are you doing here?!"

 

He knelt down and caught his brother in a hug, picking the twigs absently from the little one's hair. Ori clutched at his brother, his eyes wide and scared.

 

"Don't leave me behind!" he begged. "I want to see the hidden valley!"

 

"Ori," Bilbo groaned. "No..."

 

Haldir was staring at the little dwarfling in shock and admiration. Bilbo supposed he hadn't even heard Ori following.

 

"Too late now," Gandalf grumbled. "Nori, he rides with you."

 

Gandalf nudged Shadowfax gently, but the horse refused to move. He glared balefully back at Gandalf.

 

"You did not tell me there would be foals on this quest," he said, his voice soft and calm. Gandalf sighed heavily.

 

"It was not my intent, my friend."

 

"He will come to no harm," Shadowfax said in a serious voice. "I will not see a foal harmed, Mithrandir."

 

"You have my word," Gandalf promised. Shadownfax considered this for a moment before he nodded and turned, making his way along the path once again.

 

"You little idiot," Nori muttered as Myrtle passed Bilbo and Haldir, Ori cradled in front of his brother much like Bilbo was. "Did you even bring a weapon?"

 

"I have my slingshot," Ori grumbled. "And I brought my sketch book and inks. I want to draw everything!"

 

Haldir sighed as they followed the little pony, his arms tightening around Bilbo again.

 

"You are an interesting travel companion, Master Baggins."

 

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Bilbo had never been happier to see the sky as he was when the forest ended. Even Gandalf seemed more relaxed as they moved out into the open fields and away from the dark Mirkwood.

 

Gandalf guided Shadowfax to fall in next to Salah and smiled at Bilbo. He pointed to a large mountain standing alone to the north, shaped like a bear's head.

 

"The Carrock," he announced. "On our return journey I shall take you to the hall of my dear friend who lives in its shadow."

 

They made their way across the Great Plains to the Old Ford. The horses had no problem making their way across the shallow water, but Bilbo clung to Haldir's arms all the same, much to Bofur and Nori's amusement. They made camp on the other side, at the base of a thicket of trees, and Bilbo finally got to speak to the dwarrows.

 

"Why would Dís send you?" he demanded as soon as Bofur's feet touched the ground. Ori clung to Bilbo's waist and the hobbit absently wrapped the dwarfling up in a hug. "You should not have come."

 

"Aye, if we had not, Ori would have not," Nori agreed. "But it's too late now."

 

Ori smiled up at Bilbo, looking immensely proud of himself. Bilbo scowled down at him.

 

"Don't be angry, Mister Bilbo!" Ori begged. "I drew you, come look!"

 

Bilbo allowed himself to be dragged over to where Ori's sketchbook sat. He was expecting a childish rendition of Bilbo, perhaps a stick-figure the way Bilbo's cousins drew him.

 

What he was _not_ expecting was the beautifully accurate ink drawing Ori thrust forward. It was of Salah bearing both Haldir and Bilbo, the hobbit safely encased in the elf's arms. Haldir was looking out into the distance, eyes weary, while Bilbo was relaxed against the elf. The ink bled in all the right places to give the drawing depth and shadows.

 

"It's beautiful," Bilbo said in shock. "You have an amazing gift, Ori."

 

Ori flushed at the compliment and set the paper back into his book. Bofur clapped the dwarfling on the back.

 

"Best not let Thorin see that one," he said with a chuckle. "He'll have our hides."

 

Bilbo flushed darkly and Haldir came over, eyes locked on Ori.

 

"Dwarfling," he announced, gaining a weary look from Nori. "I require your assistance."

 

"What for?" Nori asked with a growl. Haldir met his gaze coolly.

 

"I wish to see if he can sneak up on me," Haldir responded calmly. Bofur snorted in amusement before returning to the fireplace, and the cooking pot he was tending.

 

Ori cheerfully grabbed Haldir's hand and dragged him away. Bilbo shook his head as they left, eyeing the sketch book again.

 

Bofur was right. He should find a way to see that the drawing gets accidentally lost before their return.

 

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The High Pass made Bilbo uneasy. Gandalf had roused them all before first light, insisting that they pass through the Pass before nightfall. He would not allude to why. The massive stone mountains around them set Bilbo on edge. There was something in the air, something... unnatural. They had just cleared the Pass when night fell, and Gandalf ushered them as far from the mountains as they could safely travel to in the dark, to a small cliff base they could find shelter under. They made camp, and then the thunder started.

 

Bilbo found himself curled up between Haldir and Bofur, Ori shivering on his lap. Gandalf was standing watch, facing the path, his stance defensive. Nori was beside the wizard, shouting questions over the loud rain.

 

The mountains were _alive._ They could see two clearly, waving their arms silently, until one made what appeared to be a rude gesture, and then the other was ripping stones off the mountain to throw at him with startling accuracy.

 

Haldir began to sing, his voice soft but still loud enough to sound over the thunder. The sound seemed to soothe Ori who quickly crawled from Bilbo's embrace to Haldir's.

 

The battle lasted deep into the night, and Bilbo eventually drifted off, his head propped up on Bofur's shoulder. He woke only once, when Bofur and Nori switched.

 

Morning came with an eerie stillness. They packed up quickly and moved out, Ori sniffling in Nori's arms. Gandalf led the way to the woods Rivendell was encased in, visibly relaxing as the trees surrounded them.

 

Haldir seemed more at ease as well. He lifted his head and let out a soft trill, like that of a bird. Moments later the sound was returned. Haldir smiled, a rare sight, and then there were elves running alongside the horses, hair streaking behind them as they laughed like bells. Bilbo could feel Haldir itching to join them in their run behind him.

 

The elves guided them all the way through the forest until the trees fell away abruptly to reveal a truly beautiful sight.

 

In the valley before them stood the Last Homely House. It stretched out over several levels, terraces and balconies poking out all over and waterfalls gushing around and out of the house itself. Flowers covered the whole building and its surrounding area, blooms far ranging in size and colour.

 

"Imladris," Gandalf announced with a smile. "The Last Homely House east of the sea, also known as..."

 

Bilbo relaxed against Haldir with a soft sigh of wonder.

 

"Rivendell."

 

 


	13. Heated Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivendell elves are not as polite as Bilbo had been led to believe...

Bilbo knew elves were tall. He had been around them before, obviously. But it was one thing to spend a week on the road with Haldir and another to be surrounded by elves. They towered over Bilbo, over double his size, and it unnerved him.

 

Bofur and Nori shared the sentiment, if the way they stuck by Bilbo was any indication. Bofur's usually cheerful face was grim as he eyed the elves around them, while Nori outright scowled at them.

 

Ori, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He fascinated the elves, as he was as small as the youngest elfling, but far older. Bilbo made a mental note to keep all elves away from fauntlings. Hobbit children were even smaller than dwarrows. Ori was passed around like a parcel from elf to elf, much to Nori's annoyance.

 

The elves were soon chased out of the lavish courtyard they were waiting in. Shadowfax had led both Salah and Myrtle to the stables himself, having visited many times before. A broad elf with golden hair and eyes the same shade as the summer sky shooed the rest of the elves out of the courtyard before turning to Gandalf. He was garbed in a tunic and leggings, like Haldir. A warrior then. He was taller than any other elf Bilbo had come across, and had a pair of broad shoulders to match.

 

"Mithrandir," he greeted Gandalf with a smile and bow. "You are most welcome."

 

"Glorfindel," Gandalf ambled over to clasp the elf on the shoulder. "It is good to see you, my friend."

 

Bilbo stared at the elf in wonder. Glorfindel, the Balrog slayer. Famous amongst all elves, dwarrows, men and free folk, even the secluded hobbits had heard of him. He was a legend.

 

"Marchwarden," Glorfindel greeted Haldir next, inclining his head in return of the deep bow Haldir gave. His eyes then fell upon the dwarrows and Bilbo. "This is indeed a surprise. Welcome."

 

"May I present Bofur, Nori and Ori, of Erebor," Gandalf said. "And of course, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

 

Ori gaped up at Glorfindel with his mouth open, much to the elf's amusement. Nori grabbed his brother's arm and tugged him back irritably.

 

"Did you really slay a Balrog?" Ori whispered. Glorfindel knelt down in front of him and nodded solemnly.  "Really truly?"

 

"Indeed," he said gravely. "I shall tell you about it over lunch if you wish?"

 

Ori nodded eagerly and scrambled forward. Glorfindel lifted him easily and settled him on his broad shoulders. Gandalf chuckled and followed the golden elf into the hall before them.

 

Imladris was beautiful. From the marble floors to the wide open windows, Bilbo was captivated. They followed Glorfindel through the halls to a large terrace dining balcony. The elf sitting at the head of the table rose at their entry, stepping out to greet them.

 

He was dressed in long, formal robes of a deep russet red. His long brown hair was loose but for two neat braids on either side of his face. He wore a sense of calm and tranquillity around him cloak.

 

"Lord Elrond, this is Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf introduced them. "Bilbo, Lord Elrond."

 

Bilbo gazed up into silver eyes and he felt a jolt go through him. He knew those eyes. He knew them rather well now.

 

He saw them every time he looked at Legolas.

 

Elrond quirked an eyebrow at him and Bilbo shook himself out of stupor.

 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, meaning it. "I've heard... a lot about you."

 

"Indeed?" Elrond sat back down, gesturing for Bilbo to sit beside him. "From who, may I ask?"

 

Bilbo flushed red and stared down at his plate awkwardly. He cleared his throat and peered back up at Elrond.

 

"Um... er... Thranduil..." he mumbled. A small smile, almost a smirk, slid onto Elrond's face at that.

 

"So nothing good then," he drawled as he reached for his goblet. "I hope that his words do not make your opinion of me before I have a chance to make an impression."

 

 Bilbo kept staring at his plate, hoping Elrond would drop the subject, or at least not push Bilbo into saying something he'd regret later.

 

No such luck.

 

"How is the King of the Mirkwood?" Elrond asked as he leant back in his chair, swirling his goblet around. His eyes glittered almost angrily in his face. "If you had the pleasure of his company than you surely met his consort and son? I've heard his son is a fantastic archer."

 

"There is no consort," Bilbo said, deliberately avoiding the first question. "Thranduil rules alone."

 

"So he took the coward’s way of gaining an heir," Elrond summarized. "Disappointing. The elf I knew back in the day would never have lain with another just to fall with child."

 

"He is _not_ a coward," Bilbo said, an angry flush rising in his face.  He pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. "He loves Legolas more than anything on Middle-Earth, so who cares how he came about? Legolas means so much to him; he's all that's stopping him from-"

 

Bilbo cut himself off abruptly and silence fell around the table. He risked a look up, and saw that Glorfindel was watching with undisguised interest while Ori stuffed his face. Bofur and Nori clearly wished to be anywhere but at that table, and Gandalf was resting his head in his palm, eyes closed in exasperation.

 

"Don't stop there, Master Baggins," Elrond said as he set his goblet back on the table. "Legolas is the only thing stopping him from what?"

 

Before Bilbo could speak a large commotion sounded outside the room, and the door burst open. Two young elves, no longer elflings but not quite full grown, stumbled in. They were identical in every way, from the dark brown hair to the silver eyes gleaming full of mischief. Bilbo gave a slight shiver as he was unerringly reminded of Fíli and Kíli.

 

"My sons," Elrond rose with a sigh. "You are late. And where is Estel?"

 

"Here, Ada."

 

A small _human_ child padded into the room at a much calmer rate. He smiled sweetly at Elrond before clambering up into a chair beside Bofur, not even sparing the dwarf a second look.

 

"And what kept you, my sons?" Elrond asked as the twins began to eat straight away.

 

"Elrohir and Elladan lost track of time," Estel said, shamelessly turning his two older brothers’ in. "I told them we had to leave earlier."

 

"Oh hush," one of the twins threw a bread roll across the table at Estel.

 

"Elladan," Elrond admonished him. "Not in front of guests."

 

The twins seemed to spot their guests for the first time, and Elrohir let out a cry of delight at the sight of Bilbo.

 

"A hobbit!" he pointed at Bilbo. "How delightful!"

 

Bilbo sunk back in his chair and glanced at Gandalf who simply shook his head slightly.

 

"My sons, Elrohir, Elladan and Estel," Elrond introduced them. "Master Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire."

 

"Tell me, Master Baggins," Glorfindel spoke suddenly. "Have you met Erestor, the Imladris representative at the council?"

 

"No, my lord," Bilbo shook his head. "I've only met Thranduil and Legolas."

 

"Thranduil," Elladan wrinkled his nose. "You poor thing."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bilbo bristled. Elrohir pulled his own face.

 

"He's so... so..." he seemed to struggled to find the right words. “So... stuffy. And cold."

 

"I've found him perfectly pleasant," Bilbo snapped. He was quite fed up with these Imladris elves. "A delight to be around."

 

"He's an old bore," Elrohir retorted. "And he hates father for no good reason."

 

"I think he has a _perfectly_ good reason!" Bilbo shot from his chair, deeply annoyed now. "And I'm _quite_ glad that Legolas turned out nothing like _you_ two!"

 

With that Bilbo stalked from the room, only stopping to look back at the door, his face sad and angry all at once. Lord Elrond was pale as he gripped the table, his face slack and eyes wide. He had understood what Bilbo had been implying.

 

"And for your information, _Lord_ Elrond," Bilbo said. "King Thranduil is Fading, and only Legolas keeps him from passing."

 

With that Bilbo stalked out of the room.

 

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Bilbo's exit would have been all the more grand if he actually had somewhere to stalk to.

 

As it was, he made his way aimlessly through the halls until his anger vanished and embarrassment replaced it. So much for his promise to Legolas to help relations between the two elf settlements.

 

He settled on a bench looking out over the valley and sighed heavily. He had probably ruined all chances of helping out the diplomatic situation. In fact, he had probably just worsened it. He had just been so _angry_ on Thranduil's behalf. The elf was Fading, only here still because of his son.

 

Legolas.

 

Did Legolas even know that Elrond was his father? Probably not. And there couldn't be more than twenty years between Legolas and Elrohir and Elladan. Had Elrond really moved on so quickly? And why wasn't his wife or consort at the table?

 

"What has you thinking so hard, little one?"

 

Bilbo jolted at the melodious voice that drifted down to him. An elf with brown hair settled on the bench next to him, his harp resting gently on his lap.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced," Bilbo mumbled. "I'm Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire."

 

"Lindir," the elf responded with a warm smile. "Chief Minstrel here in Imladris. How are you finding the valley so far, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire?"

 

"It's lovely," Bilbo said as he looked wistfully out at the view. "But I'm afraid I may have upset Lord Elrond."

 

"He is easy to upset these days," Lindir said with a cryptic smile. Bilbo peered up at him, curious.

 

"Where is his wife?" he asked. "Or consort?"

 

"Celebrain? She has sailed to the Grey Havens," Lindir said with a sad smile.

 

"Can you tell me about her?" Bilbo asked. Lindir set his harp aside.

 

"She was a Lothlórien elf," he explained. "The daughter of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. She married Lord Elrond for purely political reasons, but they were dear friends. She bore him three children. They all take heavily after Lord Elrond, being of dark hair. Only Lady Arwen has her mother's eyes."

 

"Where is the Lady Arwen?" Bilbo asked curiously. "I met Elrohir, Elladan and Estel."

 

"She is in Lothlórien," Lindir answered. "She spends a lot of time there with Lady Galadriel, since her mother sailed."

 

"And the Lord Elrond never remarried?" Bilbo asked. Lindir shook his head before glancing around.

 

"Between you and me, Master Baggins, no one notices a minstrel, and I have seen a lot in my time here," he murmured to the hobbit. "Elrond gave his heart away many centuries ago."

 

"Thranduil," Bilbo breathed, unable to stop himself. Lindir blinked in surprise.

 

"Yes, the Ice King," Lindir said fondly. "He visited often as a young elf, when King Oropher was still on the throne. He and Elrond were... close. It worried the Lady Galadriel, as she had long ago arranged the marriage between Elrond and Celebrain."

 

"Why didn't Elrond go to Thranduil when Celebrain sailed?" Bilbo asked, leaning in closer to Lindir.

 

"Because it was too late by then. He already hated me."

 

Lindir and Bilbo sprung apart guiltily, turning to face the elf lord behind them. Elrond's face was weary and tired as he gestured to Bilbo to follow him.

 

"My lord," Lindir rose quickly, gathering up his harp. "Forgive me, I-"

 

"Worry not, Lindir," Elrond waved him off. Lindir took the opportunity to bow and vanished down the corridor.

 

Elrond beckoned to Bilbo again and led him down to a nearby parlour. He sank onto a lounge and Bilbo scrambled onto the high chair across from him.

 

"I have been yelled at by many elves, dwarrows and men," Elrond said mildly. "But none have ever made me feel as low and disgraced as you did, Bilbo Baggins."

 

"I apologize," Bilbo mumbled, staring down at his feet. "I just... I couldn't help it."

 

"It is I who should apologize to you," Elrond said with a sigh. He looked Bilbo in the eye. "I love Thranduil, I always have. But he will have naught to do with me, and rightly so. I was an idiot to pursue him. I chased him until he gave in to me, knowing that I was engaged to be married already. I have never wanted anyone as much as I want Thranduil."

 

"Then why not speak to him?" Bilbo asked. "Just speak to him, please."

 

"I have tried," Elrond said with a slight shrug. "Every time I travel to Mirkwood I find the gates closed to me. Any missive I send returns unopened or with no response. Thranduil wants nothing to do with me."

 

"But he's _Fading,_ " Bilbo insisted. "Only Legolas-"

 

"Legolas," Elrond cut him off. "Is another matter entirely. Thranduil had _no right_ to keep the knowledge of my son from me."

 

"Yes he did," Bilbo said. "You were getting _married._ And you have four children of your own! Did you really want to drop Legolas into the middle of all that?"

 

"If I had known about Legolas-"

 

"What?" Bilbo scowled at Elrond. "Would you have not wed Celebrain?"

 

Elrond sighed heavily and leant back against the lounge, reminding Bilbo of a similar situation in Erebor with a different stubborn elf.

 

"Does Legolas know I'm his father?" Elrond asked at last. Bilbo shook his head slowly.

 

"I don't believe so," he said. "He wanted me to come here to convince you to fix the political situation between Mirkwood and Rivendell."

 

"I will have to travel to Erebor then," Elrond said, sounding almost amused. "Well, Glorfindel will be happy; he can finally stop pining over Erestor."

 

"Travel to Erebor?" Bilbo repeated, horrified. "Oh dear. I don't think Thranduil will like that."

 

"Nevertheless, it is what I will do," Elrond insisted. "I will tell him that it is time to put the past behind us and let it go. We will act like the mature elf leaders we are, and bring peace to our two great settlements."

 

_'Oh yes. That's_ exactly _what is going to happen,_ ' Bilbo thought bitterly. ' _Or Thranduil will chuck a tantrum and try to kick Elrond out of Erebor. Much more likely._ '

 

"However, political situations aside, there is another reason you are here, is there not?" Elrond asked with a slight smile. "Come. I have something to gift to you."

 

Bilbo slid down from the chair and followed Elrond through the halls. He was led through to what appeared to be a museum. Elrond made his way over to the weapons section and reached up to take a sword off the wall.

 

"Months ago a company of mine found a trio of trolls camped out in the forests near here," Elrond explained as he dusted off the sword. "After they had slain the beasts, Gildor sent back a number of the treasures they found in the beasts cave, including this."

 

Elrond drew the blade suddenly. The steel was mirror bright, and wickedly sharp. The whole blade was slightly curved.

 

"A blade crafted in Gondolin," Elrond explained. "Orcist, the Goblin Cleaver. She is a famous blade, known to all goblins and orcs. She will glow blue in their presence."

 

Elrond sheathed the blade again and handed it carefully to Bilbo.

 

"I gift this to you, Bilbo Baggins," he said solemnly. "To in turn gift to your intended, Thorin Oakenshield."

 

Bilbo took the blade carefully, staring up at Elrond in wonder.

 

"It is more than I could ever ask for," he said softly. "Thank you, Lord Elrond."

 

"Remain here for the time being, Bilbo," Elrond said kindly as he began to sweep past him. "I'll send Glorfindel to guide you to your room. I must go see my sons and inform them of... of their brother."

 

Bilbo settled down to wait on a nearby bench, holding the sword carefully on his lap.

 

"Orcist," he murmured into the silence. "I hope you'll serve him well."

 

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When Glorfindel collected Bilbo he led him through the halls, reassuring him that the room prepared was the adequate size for a hobbit.

 

"So you have not seen Erestor?" Glorfindel asked suddenly. "He is very memorable."

 

"No, I have not," Bilbo responded, shaking his head.

 

"He is slight, and slender, about yay high," Glorfindel continued, holding his hand at his own shoulder. "His hair is long and the colour of a raven's wing. His eyes are the colour of freshly turned earth, and his skin as pale as the moon herself."

 

"No, my lord, I have not met him," Bilbo said with an exasperated sigh. "Gandalf has though; perhaps you should ask him how he fares?"

 

"Gandalf sent me away," Glorfindel said mournfully as they arrived at Bilbo's designated room. "He said he had no time to waste on my lovesick mooning."

 

"Is Erestor your betrothed, then?" Bilbo asked, interested. He was curious to hear how elven marriages progressed.

 

"Nay, he does not deserve to be saddled with me," Glorfindel sighed as he leant against the door frame. "I am a besotted fool for thinking he might wish a life by my side. He is the moon in all her glory, and I am not worthy to look upon him, let alone present him with a courting wreath."

 

"A courting wreath?" Bilbo asked. Glorfindel seemed to droop at that.

 

 "It is our way of courting," he explained. "We present our intended with a wreath of flowers to wear upon their head, a symbol to all that they are being courted."

 

"So why not present one to Lord Erestor?" Bilbo asked. Glorfindel shook his head quickly.

 

"He would not accept," he insisted. "He is far too good for me."

 

"Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but you compared his beauty to the moon," Bilbo said with a smile as Glorfindel eagerly nodded. "But you yourself are quite comparable to the sun in all _his_ beauty. Not a bad match, if you ask me, my lord."

 

With that he slipped into the room, leaving a hopeful Glorfindel behind.

 

The room was lavish, but the furniture was indeed sized for someone of small stature. Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion he was in a child's room.

 

He crossed to the chest at the end of the bed and laid Orcist carefully down on top of it before crawling onto the bed and flopping down with a heavy sigh. What an exhausting day!

 

Bilbo barely noticed himself drift off to sleep.

 


	14. Helpful Hobbits

The phrase 'don't shoot the messenger' was one that Bilbo was familiar with, but had never had a reason to take to heart before.

 

But from the way Elrohir and Elladan were glaring at him Bilbo was suddenly acutely aware of the sentiment behind the phrase.

 

Apparently breaking the news that they had a brother hadn't gone down so well with the twins.

 

"Mister Baggins, Mister Baggins," Estel tugged at his sleeve and Bilbo gladly looked away from the two elves to meet the eyes of the child (who was as tall as him, damn it). "Do we really have another brother? A Prince?"

 

"Y-Yes," Bilbo stammered out awkwardly. "You do."

 

"That's fantastic," Estel breathed softly. Bilbo smiled at the boy, happy at least one of them was enthusiastic.

 

"Yes, _fantastic,"_ Elrohir drawled. "Fantastic that there's a bastard child out there impugning mother and father's marriage."

 

" _Elrohir!"_

The elf winced and turned to face his father. They were in the dining hall again, waiting for others to join them.

 

"Father," Elrohir mumbled. "I, um..."

 

"Enough of this hostility," Elrond ordered. "In case you've forgotten, Legolas is the eldest of you children. Perhaps it was _your_ mother who tainted _his_ parents’ relationship?"

 

Elrohir sighed and stared at his plate. Elladan patted his arm softly.

 

"Now behave," Elrond ordered as he sat down. "Or I'll leave you behind."

 

Bilbo had been a bit devastated to learn that their return to the lonely mountain would _not_ be as simple as their journey out. There would be no quick trip through the High Pass, no stop off at Gandalf's friend's home, no trek down the Old Forest road.

 

No, Elrond was arriving with an entourage fitting of his station. The Last Homely House would be left in the hands of Lindir while they were gone. Glorfindel would be leading a score of his troops to protect Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan and Estel. All three boys were coming to meet their brother. Elrond had also sent word to Lothlórien, summoning Arwen to meet them at Erebor as part of the Lady Galadriel's party.

 

Apparently Elrond had communicated through his ring of power to the Lady last night, and while Galadriel was not thrilled to find out about Thranduil and Legolas, she understood that it was an important political tie.

 

So now Bilbo would be returning home with twenty-four elves, a human child, three dwarrows and a wizard.

 

Well, if that didn't impress Thráin Bilbo had no idea what would.

 

They settled in to eat, the twins still shooting Bilbo dirty looks whenever they could. Estel settled next to Bilbo, Ori on the child's other side. He then proceeded to drill Bilbo about hobbits until his father called for silence.

 

"When will we return?" Nori asked glumly, poking at the bowl of salad before him. Bofur snorted into his water, but looked like he agreed entirely.

 

"On the morrow, Master Dwarf," Elrond sounded amused as he sipped his drink. "It will not be as speedy a trip as you are used to."

 

"As long as we can hunt on the way," Nori mumbled as he stared at the green food before him.

 

Bilbo stifled a laugh as he nibbled at a honeycake. The elves served meat only at the evening meal, and the dwarrows thought this a great travesty. Now maybe they understood how Bilbo felt about only eating three meals a day. Lord Glorfindel had been most shocked to find him making himself afternoon tea in the kitchen the day before, and had been even more shocked to hear that he usually ate seven meals a day.

 

Bilbo sighed as he gazed out the open terrace at the valley. Imladris was beautiful, but Bilbo longed for the Shire again, and most of all, he longed for Thorin.

 

Bilbo wondered what he was doing at that moment, wondered if he, too, was thinking of Bilbo.

 

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Thorin Oakenshield stared up at the clear sky above him and sighed heavily. He glanced down at the item in his hand before he grunted and tucked it into a saddle bag of his pony.

 

Thorin Oakenshield was troubled. It was an unsettling feeling. He was always so sure of himself, of his path. He knew exactly what he was to do, and when he was to do it. He knew how he was going to rule under the mountain, how he would lead his people, how he would proceed in diplomatic manners.

 

And then he had stumbled through a green door into a hobbit hole and it was all over.

 

From the very moment Thorin laid eyes upon Bilbo he had wanted him. The damn hobbit was wearing naught but a nightshirt and robe, his collarbones exposed. Thorin had been seized with an urge to run his tongue up the hobbit's neck, to see what noises he could make.

 

It had been so hard to keep to himself. And then the Gathering. Thorin had no idea why he had gone. He never went to them if he could help it, but he had been compelled to. And then to see Nori and Bofur throwing their arms casually around Bilbo like that... Thorin had nearly thrown a punch.

 

But then Bilbo was in his arms, and they were gliding across the floor, and the little hobbit was gazing up at him with such _adoration_ that it had taken Thorin's breath away.

 

Thorin had meant to make that first dinner meeting, he truly had. But his father had waylaid him with so many tasks that the time had flown by. In hindsight he should not have told Dwalin in front of so many others that he would not make it, but it was too late to change that now.

 

And then he had the perfect opportunity to return. He had really only intended to gather his cloak, and look upon the hobbit he had tentatively begun courting, but Bilbo had answered the door in his _damn cloak,_ and then had begun to _undress_ in front of him. How on Middle-Earth was Thorin supposed to resist that?

 

Bilbo had tasted so sweet. The noises he had made as Thorin had pinned him to the wall were the most beautiful sounds Thorin had ever heard. He had wanted to consume Bilbo entirely, right there in his entrance hall.

 

And then their damn courting had advanced and it had been _torture._ He had barely been able to touch his hobbit.

 

But it was all worth it, to hold Bilbo in his arms and see that he, too, had removed his right bracelet. Rubbing the vacant skin beneath his fingers had been the greatest feeling he could remember.

 

And then he had messed it all up.

 

He had driven Bilbo out onto a dangerous quest. The only thing that had stopped Thorin from marching a squad of dwarrows down to the Shire to forcibly bring Bilbo to Erebor and hold him there until Thorin returned from his own quest was Mithrandir intervening. Gandalf had promised he would take care of Bilbo, and not leave his side. This was the only reason Thorin had not intervened.

 

It had hurt more than anything to leave without saying goodbye to Bilbo.

 

But now he was on his way back. He had travelled far, all the way out to the south of The Blue Mountains, where he had run into a pack of travelling elves, representatives of Rivendell. They had said they had heard of him, and he managed to barter a beautifully made short sword from them. The sword was more than likely ornamental, as it was too small for even a dwarf to use, but it would be just the right size for Bilbo. Gildor, the leader of the elves, had handed it over for a surprisingly decent price, a smile in his eyes.

 

And now Thorin was headed home. The elves had advised him to avoid travelling near Rivendell or the High Pass, so he had taken the Gap of Rohan and was now making his way across The Brown Lands, Mirkwood a smudge on the horizon.

 

He would be home within the week. Hopefully Bilbo would be waiting for him.

 

With this in mind he spurned his pony forward.

 

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 Apparently Imladris did not have a great number of ponies in their stables.

 

That was the explanation Elrond had offered Bilbo when they had set out a week and a half ago. Estel had his own little pony, a shaggy thing who he adored. Bofur was riding Myrtle while Nori was seated upon the only other pony the elves had been able to provide. Ori was with Glorfindel on his massive stallion, Asfaloth.

 

And Bilbo was stuck with Haldir again.

 

A week and a half riding with the elf was taking its toll on Bilbo. Elrohir and Elladan, apparently having forgiven Bilbo for being the messenger of bad news, had teased the Marchwarden for his over protectiveness relentlessly for the first day before they realized they would get no rise out of him. Instead, they turned their attention on Bilbo, and the hobbit had found himself at the end of several crude questions and comments about his friendship with Haldir. The Marchwarden himself had managed to shut them up for a day by suggesting they repeat said questions when they reached Erebor in front of the Prince.

 

But now they were two days ride from Erebor, and Bilbo was itching with the desire to be Haldir to ride ahead. They could make it by the following nightfall if they pushed hard, but with Elrond's company slowing them down it would take until the night after that to arrive.

 

"Peace, Bilbo,” Haldir murmured above him. "I would rather we ride ahead too, but we cannot."

 

"This is ridiculous," Bilbo grumbled. "I just want to go _home."_

Haldir nodded in response, and Bilbo smiled softly. He suspected the Marchwarden was one of the reasons the twins stopped their harassment of him. Haldir had witnessed one incident and his knives were out before Elrohir could finish his sentence. When the twins realized Elrond seemed content to let Haldir have his way they had begrudgingly apologized to Bilbo and ceased any torment.

 

When Lord Elrond called for camp on the fringes of the forest Bilbo was all too happy to be lifted from Salah's back. His short legs were not made for horse riding, and as slender and gentle as Salah was, she was still a horse, and Bilbo only a hobbit.

 

The elves were highly efficient at setting up and breaking down a camp. They moved without being directed, and by the time Bilbo had his bedroll set up their dinner was more than half cooked. Bofur and Nori had been gleefully happy to see that the elves lived off the land when they travelled, so meat had made an appearance every night.

 

Bilbo settled in upon a log someone had dragged in front of the fire, happy to feel completely safe. None would dare attack such a large company, not of _elves,_ and if they were foolish enough to do so the camp would have more than enough warning, as the elves moved in watch shifts of five.

 

Estel and Ori darted around handing out bowls to people, Ori insisting on bringing Glorfindel his personally. Bilbo hoped that the hero worship Ori had developed for the elf would wear off by the time they reached Erebor, or else Dwalin might not be too happy.

 

Estel brought Bilbo his bowl and settled in beside him, happily digging into his own food. Bilbo hummed his thanks and picked at his own. Gandalf was seated across the fire with his pipe, sending little smoke butterflies and dragons through the flames every so often.

 

Bilbo set his bowl aside after scraping it clean and made his way cautiously to the edge of the camp. Elrond stood staring out into the darkness, eyes weary.

 

"Is something the matter, Lord Elrond?" Bilbo asked softly. Elrond let out a soft sigh before smiling down at Bilbo.

 

"Not at all, Master Baggins," he murmured. "I just grow... anxious... as we approach the mountain. I have not been to the Mirkwood in over five decades."

 

"The Mirkwood is not the same," Bilbo mumbled. "My parents spoke of a friendlier place where they could picnic on the fringes of the forest."

 

"Thranduil loves the forest, and the forest loved him," Elrond said softly, his eyes sliding shut as a breeze brushed through his hair. "He would take me on walks through the woods, and the trees around us would _sing_ in his presence. He could run through them blindfolded and never need worry about coming to harm."

 

"Perhaps that is why the forest is so sick now," Bilbo whispered, staring past the elf lord into the dark woods. "It echoes his illness."

 

"Perhaps you are right, Master Baggins," Elrond said. Out in the dark something shifted and in a movement too fast for his hobbit eyes to catch Elrond thrust Bilbo behind him with one hand and drew his blade with the other. He stood there, poised and waiting for whatever was in the dark.

 

The silence was deafening for long moments, and then in a rush a score of bats shot overhead, rushing past Elrond and forcing the elf to raise a hand to protect his face.

 

Bilbo sighed in relief and leant against Elrond's legs. Elrond slid his blade back into its sheath and turned to face Bilbo.

 

"Perhaps it would be wise to return to camp, Master Baggins," he murmured. "The next thing the forest may spit out might not be as harmless."

 

Bilbo scrambled back to hide behind Haldir who frowned in the direction of the forest. Ori was curled up in his bedroll already, Estel fighting a battle to stay awake next to him. Bilbo trudged over to his own bedroll beside Bofur and wrapped himself up tight. Nori was snoring away on Bofur's other side.

 

"Only two more days," Bofur sighed happily as he fiddled with the little wooden toy he was carving. "Then we'll be back underground where we belong."

 

Bilbo thought back to his cosy little hobbit hole and agreed entirely.

 

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Bilbo was torn. He had never been happier to march up the great walk to Erebor, but part of him wanted to break away from the pack, race down the side road to the Shire and not stop until he reached Bag End.

 

But instead he could only gaze longingly down the road to where he could just see the market and keep on marching, Haldir nudging him carefully. Ori was ahead with Estel, tugging his hand eagerly. Both boys were excited for different reasons; Estel to see the great mountain, Ori to finally arrive home.

 

Bofur was keeping a close eye on the boys as he whistled his way into the mountain. Nori was sulking at the back of the grand progression. He was not looking forward to dealing with Dori and his reaction to Ori's supposed note explaining his absence.

 

Bilbo flushed heavily as Haldir negotiated him to the front of the crowd. He found himself between Elrond and Glorfindel as they paused in the great hall of the mountain.

 

"Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel," a dwarf materialized in front of them and bowed deeply. "His majesty awaits you in the throne room."

 

Elrond smiled down at Bilbo and nodded for him to lead the way. Bilbo took a deep breath and nodded. He stepped forward to follow the dwarf and could feel the others falling into step behind him.

 

Bilbo could feel his ears burning as he followed the dwarf into the throne room. His nerves spiked even higher as they made their way across the great bridge. Bilbo stopped before the throne and gazed up at Thrain, who stared back down at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

"Your majesty," Bilbo squeaked out. "I-I've returned."

 

"With a great entourage, and before my son," Thrain pointed out as he sat up straight. Bilbo wilted at the news that Thorin was yet to return. "And the fruit of your quest?"

 

Haldir stepped up beside Bilbo and handed Orcist, wrapped securely in a cloth, down to the hobbit. Bilbo took a deep breath and unwrapped the sword, letting Haldir take the cloth away.

 

"Orcist, the goblin cleaver," he proclaimed shakily. He held it up in front of him, lifting his chin defiantly. "Would his majesty care to inspect the blade?"

 

Thrain stared down at Bilbo for a long moment. Bilbo held the old dwarf's eyes, afraid of what might happen if he looked away. He could feel it. This was the moment where Thrain would judge him a suitable partner for Thorin or not.

 

A soft chuckle of laughter from the king's left broke the tension.  Both king and hobbit turned to look at the old dwarf seated there, who was shaking his head as if in disbelief.

 

"The Goblin Cleaver itself!" the dwarf laughed. "Oh, what a treat you are, Bilbo Baggins! Son, you cannot deny he has exceeded your expectations far beyond what you imagined."

 

Thrain smiled at the dwarf before turning back to Bilbo with a soft laugh.

 

"My father is right," he said with a fond smile. "Bilbo Baggins, you have indeed gone above and beyond what I expected. You bring a famous blade for my son to wield; you come in the company of an elf lord I never expected to see this close to the Mirkwood in many years and with the famous Balrog slayer no less! I declare your quest a rousing success, and give you my blessing in your courtship with Thorin."

 

The words roared in Bilbo's ears and he lowered his arms slowly. A pair of hands came down on his shoulders, drawing him back from the front of the progression. Glorfindel and Elrond stepped in front of him to greet the king themselves and Bilbo found himself being led to the back of the group by Haldir.

 

"I did it..." he whispered in disbelief. “I... I actually did it."

 

"There was never a doubt in my mind that you would, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf chuckled as they passed him. Bofur let out a sharp whistle and Nori clapped him on the back.

 

Haldir led him out into the main hall where Bilbo quickly sunk to the ground. He stared at the sword in his lap before looking up at Haldir in wonder.

 

"I..." he couldn't even find the words to describe it. Haldir smiled then, a small barely there movement of the lips. "Thank you, my friend, for all your help."

 

"It is an honour to call you friend, Bilbo Baggins," Haldir murmured as he hauled Bilbo to his feet. "Now stand. A Prince's Consort does not kneel in the dirt."

 

"And the great halls of Erebor are not _dirty,_ Marchwarden," a familiar voice teased.

 

Haldir spun to face the elf prince who was lounging against a column nearby. He bowed deeply to Legolas and received an exasperated but fond eye roll in return as the Prince crossed to them.

 

"Your highness," Haldir murmured. "I performed my duty as you asked and protected Master Baggins on his journey. I hope I have done you pr-"

 

"Haldir," Legolas interrupted as he grasped Haldir's chin, raising his head to meet laughing silver eyes. "Be silent."

 

Haldir's eyes narrowed as he pulled his face free of Legolas's grasp. He held Legolas's eyes for a long moment, and then to Bilbo's great surprise the prince dropped _his_ gaze with a slight blush.

 

"Well then," Legolas murmured, a smile slipping onto his face. He turned to Bilbo and the smile grew wider. "You did it, my friend. You brought Elrond here."

 

"Thrain summoned him," Bilbo couldn't help but point out. "I didn't actually do anything."

 

"I'm sure that's not true," Legolas laughed. "For him to gift you Orcist!"

 

A commotion sounded behind the prince and they turned to see the cause of it. To Bilbo's surprise Glorfindel appeared, one hand hauling Kíli, the other Estel. Both boys looked a little worse for wear, and Ori and Fíli were hurrying along behind them.

 

"Kíli!" Bilbo cried, shoving Orcist into Haldir's arms as he rushed over to the boys. "What happened?"

 

" _He_ started it!" Kíli cried as Glorfindel released the boys. "Bilbo!"

 

Kíli threw himself at Bilbo's legs, clinging to him tight while Estel glared at Fíli. Ori looked torn between wanting to defend his new friend and wanting to stand by his old ones.

 

"Enough of that," Bilbo scolded as he pried Kíli off of him. He looked up at Glorfindel. "What happened?"

 

"The young Prince took offence to Estel's comment about his height," Glorfindel explained. "He then said some... less than kind things in regards to Estel's mother, and Estel retorted by implying that the Lady Dís would very much like to procreate with a goat. It went downhill from there."

 

"Estel!" Bilbo was shocked that the child would use such language. "And Kíli! What on Middle-Earth is wrong with you two?"

 

"I hate Men," Kíli grumbled. He turned his gaze back up to Bilbo, his eyes large and innocent. "I'm sorry, Bilbo, please don't be mad."

 

"Apologize to Estel," Bilbo sighed. "Not me."

 

Kíli looked like he would rather swallow a lemon. Estel shuffled and looked down at the floor before offering his hand to the prince.

 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "You're not _that_ short."

 

"Humph..." Kíli took the hand quickly. "I'm sorry too. For saying that your mother likes to-"

 

" _Kíli_ ," Bilbo cut him off sharply. "No need to repeat."

 

Kíli poked his tongue out at Bilbo before smiling up at Estel.

 

"Wanna come throw rocks down the mineshaft and watch them all panic?" he asked. Estel's eyes lit up and then the boys were off, Ori and Fíli in tow. Bilbo shook his head with a sigh before smiling up at Glorfindel.

 

"Thank you, my lord," he said. Glorfindel bowed his head lightly, eyes sparkling.

 

"Anything to get away from the boring formalities in there," he chuckled. "I almost thanked the two."

 

"You would, wouldn't you?"

 

The new voice came from behind the large lord and had him freezing on the spot, eyes wide as he stared unseeingly over Bilbo's head. A delicate elf stepped out from behind the lord, barely reaching Glorfindel's shoulder. He smiled up at the lord before shaking his head in amusement.

 

He turned to Bilbo then, and the little hobbit felt himself blush under the weight of that heavy gaze. Long raven hair fell down to the elf's waist, pulled back as usual. Large brown eyes gazed out of a pale face, filled with wisdom and warmth.

 

"Lord Erestor, I presume?" Bilbo asked with a smile. Erestor's eyes crinkled in amusement.

 

"Indeed, Master Baggins," Erestor said as he leant casually on Glorfindel. "I hear you are to thank for the pleasant mood Lord Elrond is in. I expected him to be a bear with a sore tooth when he was summoned."

 

"I didn't do anything," Bilbo protested. "Why does everyone think I did?"

 

"You do not value your self-worth," Erestor said as he shook his head. His eyes slid up to Glorfindel slyly. "Like another I know."

 

Glorfindel had finally broken out of his stupor and he quickly turned to bow to Erestor, taking his hand.

 

"Chief Councillor, you are as lovely as ever," he murmured, brushing a kiss over those pale fingers. "It warms my heart to see you looking so well."

 

"Lord Glorfindel," Erestor gently removed his hand from the grip and raised an eyebrow. "Ever the flatterer."

 

"Only for you, my love," Glorfindel responded, gazing mournfully at the hand he was forced to give up. Bilbo felt himself flush. This was a private moment he was privy to. "My life has been so empty without you by my side."

 

"Perhaps a wreath of flowers would warm it?" Erestor asked, his eyebrow raised again. "Roses perhaps? I hear the Shirelings have lovely gardens, though I have not found the time to visit them myself. I should love a wreath of golden roses to warm my life."

 

Glorfindel floundered for a moment and Erestor seemed to droop, stepping further away from the golden lord. He turned to Bilbo and bowed slightly.

 

"I must return to my lord," he murmured. "Good day, Master Baggins."

  
Erestor gave Glorfindel one last hard look before he retreated back towards the throne room. Glorfindel stared down at his boots looking so forlorn that Bilbo almost felt bad for kicking him. Almost.

 

"What was that for?" Glorfindel asked, bewildered. Bilbo scowled at him.

 

"You are as thick headed as any dwarf," he muttered. "Why did you not respond to Erestor's wish for a wreath? He couldn't be more brazen unless he laid himself bare at your feet!"

 

"H-He did not mean _me,_ " Glorfindel stuttered, his mind seemingly derailed at the image Bilbo had conjured. "He is merely saying that he is ready for courting. Not... not for _me_ to court him."

 

"You really are blind when it comes to him," Bilbo sighed. He straightened then, nodding sharply. "I shall return to my home. I shall need an escort, my lord."

 

"Is your home within the mountain?" Glorfindel asked warily, looking around. "My Lord Elrond has forbidden us from speaking with the Mirkwood elves until the council meeting."

 

"I live in the Shire," Bilbo said with a smile. "In a lovely hobbit hole."

 

"Ah, away from the politics," Glorfindel brightened. "It would be my honour to escort you, Master Baggins."

 

Bilbo allowed the elf to take Orcist from him and he turned to lead the way to the Shire, Glorfindel easily keeping up with his short strides.

 

Bilbo needed a distraction while he waited for Thorin to return. He would see Glorfindel leave the Shire with a wreath or not at all!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the actors for Dwalin, Fíli, Bombur and Rhadagast will be at a convention I'm attending next month.
> 
> I'm just gonna fangirl forever now.


	15. Happy Hobbits

Elves, Bilbo decided, were a lot more delightful than dwarrows for one particular reason. They could be bullied into submission.

 

Glorfindel had been properly appreciative of Bag End, and had enjoyed the gardens very much, not noticing when Bilbo slipped away to speak a few words to Hamfast Gamgee. However, when the gardener hobbit returned with a dozen of his prize roses, mostly golden with a few white ones thrown in, Glorfindel had tried to politely turn the offering down.

 

Until Bilbo had grabbed him by the tunic and dragged him inside to the kitchen table. Glorfindel had hunched over the wooden table and hurriedly began to weave the flowers together as Bilbo berated him for doubting his own self-worth.

 

Apparently the famous Balrog slayer was a big softie at heart.

 

"It is done," Glorfindel sighed heavily, resting his arms on either side of the wreath. He stared down at the beautiful delicate crown before turning his blue gaze back to Bilbo. "You are sure of this?"

 

"Very," Bilbo said with a smile. "Have faith in yourself, my lord."

 

"I say this is foolish," Glorfindel said. "But I have faith in _you,_ Bilbo Baggins."

 

Bilbo waved off the compliment with a blush, gathering up the plate left over from his dinner. The sun was beginning to set, so Bilbo quickly hurried Glorfindel to his feet.

 

"The evening meal has just passed here in the Shire," he explained as the elf lord scooped up his wreath carefully. "The dwarrows dine an hour after us. You would not want to be late."

 

"Aye, what a shame that would be," Glorfindel said glumly as Bilbo herded him towards the door. "If I were to linger too long and be locked out of the mountain. My wreath would go to waste."

 

"Oh hush, they do not lock the gates for a good while yet," Bilbo chuckled as he shoved Glorfindel out the door. The elf lord bowed deeply to him, still clearly troubled. Bilbo fixed him with a stern look. "If I do not see that wreath on Lord Erestor's head by tomorrow I will be most upset and displeased."

 

"And we wouldn't want that now," Glorfindel laughed softly. He inclined his head once more. "Thank you for your hospitality, Master Baggins. I shall see you on the morrow."

 

"Aye, on the morrow," Bilbo agreed as he bowed himself. The elf lord sighed once more before he made his way down the walk, the rays of the dying sun bathing him and making him look truly like a manifestation of the great star itself.

 

Bilbo leant against his frame and gazed up at the orange sky. He truly was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed. He turned back to face his entry hall and smiled as he stepped back inside, the door falling shut behind him. He crossed to the wall where Thorin had pinned him that night, so long ago now. Bilbo brushed his hand along the wood lining and shivered slightly before he made his way to the study.

 

He settled down on his chair and stared down at the writing implements laid out before him. He ran his fingers gently over the quills and inks, smiling softly. These were the items he used to spin his crazed tales, stories for children to enjoy over and over again. But perhaps now, he should write a story aimed for a slightly older audience.

 

Chuckling to himself Bilbo slid from the chair and crossed to the bookshelf to his left. He pulled out a heavy volume, a completely empty book, the pages waiting to be filled. Bilbo set it down heavily on his desk and opened it up carefully. He had never used this book, as it was much too big to be used for a children's book. He had intended to fill it with a number of different stories, but now it called to him for a different purpose. He reached for his favourite quill and a jar of his most expensive black ink. He opened the little pot and dipped his quill in it before setting it hovering above the paper. He looked up and out his little window at the darkening sky and smiled.

 

Then, he began to write.

 

' _In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit._ '

 

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Bilbo whistled cheerfully as he made his way up the great road to Erebor. The heavy satchel slung over his shoulder bumped against his legs as he walked, but he paid it no mind.

 

He had spent the morning in the Southfarthing, in Tookland, visiting his cousins and family. His uncle had been most displeased at his lack of visits. Bilbo had hastily apologized and promised he would visit more often. Not likely, but the older hobbit didn't need to know that.

  
After escaping the clutches of his family he had returned to Bag End to gather up his book and writing supplies, and to slip in a quick lunch, before he headed off to the mountain. He wanted to be there for when Thorin returned.

 

Bilbo hadn't anticipated on taking three steps into Erebor only to have shouting stop him in his tracks. He turned towards one of the side corridors as it got louder, eyes brimming with curiosity.

 

"-be reasonable, Ada!"

 

" _Reasonable?_ Is it reasonable to expect that my son would not betray me?"

 

"Ada, please! I had to-"

 

" _Had_ to, Legolas? _Had_ to?"

 

Thranduil burst into the entrance hall, Legolas on his heels. Haldir was a silent shadow behind the Prince, watching everything cautiously.

 

"Yes, Ada! I had to!"

 

Thranduil spotted Bilbo then and his scowl increased. He stalked towards him, robes billowing behind him.

 

"And _you!_ " he pointed a finger at Bilbo accusingly. "You encouraged this!"

 

"Ada, leave him be!" Legolas hurried in between Bilbo and Thranduil. "Bilbo didn't bring Lord Elrond here. Thrain summoned him."

 

"Has he wooed you over to his side yet?" Thranduil demanded, pushing past Legolas and kneeling before Bilbo. "Has he poisoned you against me? Do you look upon me with naught but disgust now, Bilbo Baggins?"

 

"Actually, Bilbo here was a stout supporter of your cause, he even yelled at me over it."

 

Thranduil paled before Bilbo, an unhealthy hue. He swayed on the spot and Legolas swept in to help his father to his feet, wrapping a supporting arm around the King's waist. Together they turned to face the Imladris elf who stood innocently to the side, hands spread by his side.

 

If Thranduil had seemed cold before it was nothing compared to the glacier that stood before Bilbo now.

 

"Lord Elrond," Thranduil greeted him stiffly. "Please excuse me."

 

Thranduil made to stride off, but Legolas tightened his arm around the King, holding him easily by his side.

 

"No, Ada," he murmured. "No more running."

 

Elrond's eyes snapped to Legolas and he took a step towards him, eyes sweeping from head to toe. Thranduil snarled wordlessly at Elrond and shuffled until the Prince was behind his father.

 

"Stay away from him," Thranduil whispered, his voice perfectly calm and low. "You will not take a step closer."

 

"He doesn't know, does he?" Elrond murmured as he tilted his head to the side to look at Legolas behind Thranduil. "You never told him, like you never told me."

 

"That you're my father?" Legolas cut in. "I've always known."

 

"Legolas," Thranduil twisted to stare at his son. "What... how?"

 

"Oh, Ada," Legolas shook his head fondly. "Your hatred of Lord Elrond is well known. It wasn't hard to figure out when it started, and to cross those dates with my birth and his marriage to the Lady Celebrain."

 

"Legolas... ion nîn..." Thranduil rested his forehead on Legolas's shoulder. "I... I didn't want you to know. To think less of me."

 

"I could never think less of you, Ada," Legolas whispered. "You're my father."

 

Thranduil didn't seem capable of moving, and Bilbo noticed that the dwarrows were watching them curiously. He cleared his throat lightly, and all four elves gazes turned to him.

  
"Perhaps we should move this discussion somewhere more private?" he suggested. Haldir darted off down a nearby corridor to prepare a room while Legolas shifted his grip on Thranduil until he could bear most of his father's slim weight. Elrond stepped forward to help but a sharp look from Thranduil had him moving back again shortly after.

 

Bilbo toddled down the hall to find Haldir waiting outside a man-sized room. He stood beside the elf as the others made their way in, Legolas helping Thranduil to recline on a long lounge before he dropped into a chair by his side. Elrond settled himself in a large lounge chair, eyes never leaving the pale king.

 

Bilbo began to slip from the doorway, but before he had taken two steps Thranduil was calling his name.

 

"You will stay, please," he said, a frown marring his face. "You have been a part of this for a while now; you may as well see it through."

 

"Haldir, come here," Legolas ordered softly. Elrond looked sharply at him and Legolas met the gaze head on. "He will hear it from me later; let him hear it in person firsthand, rather than the biased pillow talk I shall provide."

 

Elrond's eyes locked onto Haldir as he strode across the room to stand behind Legolas. Haldir chose to stare straight ahead at the wall rather than the dysfunctional family. Bilbo scurried to sit down on the low ottoman, a perfect perch for a hobbit.

 

"There, we are in private," Thranduil declared, waving a regal hand. He fixed Elrond with his icy stare. "What do you want?"

 

"To talk," Elrond said softly. "To both you and my son."

 

"There is nothing to be said," Thranduil insisted. "If I cannot have you thrown out the mountain I will suffer your company until these talks are finished, but no longer. I will not _play nice,_ I will not _make up,_ and I will not let you make us all one big happy family!"

 

Elrond chuckled lowly, the sound startling Bilbo. Then the elf was throwing back his head and _laughing,_ his chest heaving from the mirth. Thranduil let out an indigent noise that would have been a squawk from anyone else and sat up straight.

 

"You haven't changed at all," Elrond said at last, shaking his head. "Still my fierce princeling."

 

"I am not _your_ anything!" Thranduil insisted as he glared at Elrond. "This talk is over!"

 

Instead of answering Elrond simply stood and swept forward. He grabbed two fistfuls of Thranduil's hair and pulled him close, crashing his lips down onto the king's. Thranduil let out a muffled noise of protest and weakly batted at Elrond's shoulders.

 

Legolas covered his eyes with a hand and Haldir smiled and shook his head. Bilbo squirmed uncomfortably at the display when Elrond didn't let up for several minutes.

 

Finally the elf lord sat back down, his face smug. Thranduil collapsed back against his lounge, panting slightly and glaring at Elrond. His face, however, was already looking healthier. His hair, which had been sickly white, was taking on a shine of gold, and looking fuller by the second. His blue eyes were no longer frozen chips of ice but rather a pool of swirling cobalt. He looked healthier, from that small touch alone.

 

"You- You-" Thranduil pointed a finger at Elrond as he spluttered. "How _dare_ you!"

 

"Oh I dare, love," Elrond said as he smiled at the King. "You look better already. If I had known you were Fading I would have broken down the door to Mirkwood long ago."

 

"You cannot expect me to agree to this!" Thranduil said snootily, looking away from Elrond. "I hate you, Elrond Peredhil, and nothing will change that."

 

"Once you said that nothing will change that you love me," Elrond pointed out. "So which is it?"

 

"Legolas, I wish to retire," Thranduil said, ignoring Elrond's question. Legolas didn't move. "Ion nîn?"

 

"No, Ada," Legolas shook his head. "We're not done here."

 

"I believe we are," Thranduil said coolly. "My room, Legolas."

 

"I have brothers?" Legolas said, turning to Elrond. "And a sister?"

 

"Yes, three brothers and a sister," Elrond smiled at him. "The young Princes Fíli and Kíli remind me much of Elladan and Elrohir. Estel is the youngest. He has wisdom beyond the other two. And Arwen is the most beautiful elleth in all of Middle-Earth."

 

"Legolas! Stop talking to him at once!"

 

"I should like to meet them," Legolas said softly. "Did they accompany you?"

 

"The boys are here," Elrond said with a crinkling smile. "Arwen will be arriving with the Lady Galadriel."

 

"Enough!" Thranduil pushed himself to his feet. He levelled Elrond with a glare. "This isn't over. I'll see myself out."

 

He stalked shakily out of the room at that. Legolas looked up at Haldir who nodded swiftly and took off after him, leaving Bilbo alone with the two elves. Elrond watched the door for a moment before he rose and crossed to the lounge Thranduil had vacated. He sunk down onto it and reached for Legolas, burying a hand in his golden locks. Legolas smiled and leant into the touch.

 

"I am sorry I didn't get to see you grow up," Elrond murmured. "I should have liked to see that very much."

 

"Please don't be angry at Ada for it," Legolas said seriously. "He was only doing what he thought was best."

 

"I know, ion nîn," Elrond soothed. "I still love your father very much. I will stop him from Fading, even if it is not his wish to see me."

 

Bilbo slipped from the ottoman and padded over to the door. He looked back at the father and son who had slipped into elvish as soon as he left and smiled.

 

He made his way through the corridor to the main chamber and poked around cautiously. The dwarrows nearby paid him no mind, used to seeing him around by now. Bilbo took a deep breath and chose a corridor at random and made his way down it, poking his head into rooms as he went.

 

The first two were occupied by various groups of Men who looked startled to see him. Bilbo hastily retreated before they could question him. He had no desire to speak to Men. The next room held a group of dwarrows who appeared to be trying to drink themselves silly. Judging by their clothing they were of the Iron Hills. Bilbo ducked away before they could spot him.

 

The next room was fairly silent, but Bilbo was cautious still as he stuck his head inside. He grinned at the sight that met his eyes.

 

Glorfindel was seated on the lounge, his legs stretched out along it. He was whispering softly into the ear of Councillor Erestor, who was lying between his stretched legs with his back to the golden lord's chest, the beautiful wreath of gold and white roses balanced on his dark hair. Glorfindel nuzzled the ear suddenly and Erestor giggled softly, reaching back to grasp a handful of Glorfindel's hair. He tugged the blond head down until their lips met, and Bilbo backed out, leaving them to their private moment.

 

The next room was mercifully empty. Bilbo happily trotted over to the low table and dumped his satchel up on it before settling on a dwarf-sized chair nearby. He tugged out his book, inks and quills and settled in.

 

' _There were many paths that led up into those mountains and many passes over them..._ '

 

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"What's that, Bilbo?"

 

"Yeah, what you got there, Bilbo?"

 

Bilbo rubbed his eyes as Fíli and Kíli danced around him, poking at his quills and trying to peek at his book. He had been left alone for a merciful couple of hours until a young dwarf girl had come by and asked if he would like any refreshments. Upon her return with his meal she also brought Fíli and Kíli.

 

"Where's Ori?" he asked at last, glaring at both of them. Kíli scowled darkly.

 

"With _Estel,_ " he said, his tone showing exactly what he thought of that. "In the library."

 

"And why are you bothering me and not them?" Bilbo asked. Fíli grinned and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

 

"You're more fun!" he declared. "And mother said Kíli would be in _big_ trouble if he fought with Estel again."

 

"I see," Bilbo sighed. He glanced at the large ornate clock on the wall. It was early afternoon. "As much as I do love your company boys, and I do, I'm a little busy here..."

 

"Oh, okay," Fíli shrugged as he stepped away from Bilbo. "We just thought you'd be interested to hear the news is all."

 

"What news?" Bilbo demanded as he dropped his head into his hands. "You've told me no news, just pestered me!"

 

"We'll go then," Kíli said, bounding over to the door. "We just thought you'd want to know that Uncle was back. Oh well."

 

"What?!" Bilbo leapt to his feet in shock, staring at the princes. "Why didn't you say so!"

 

"We just did," Kíli said with a wicked grin. "Slow today, Uncle Bilbo!"

 

"Out!" Bilbo ordered, pointing at the door. He scrambled to pack his book and quills away, making sure the ink pot was secure. "Damn dwarflings..."

 

Bilbo stuffed everything into the satchel and dashed for the door. He hurried out into the hall, ignoring the two princes that were waiting at the end for him. Kíli and Fíli danced around him happily, tugging at his bag and hands until Bilbo swatted them away. He stumbled out into the main hall and frowned when he found it empty.

 

"Boys, I swear," he said as he turned to look at them. "If you're making up stories again..."

 

 "Who are your friends, Master Baggins?"

 

Bilbo blinked as two identical elves materialized in front of him, matching grins on their faces. Fíli and Kíli stepped up on either side of Bilbo, eyeing the newcomers curiously.

 

"Elladan, Elrohir," Bilbo sighed. "This is Fíli, and Kíli."

 

"Ah, the princes!"

 

One of the elves, Elrohir Bilbo thought, but he could never be sure, stepped forward and knelt down in front of Kíli. He inspected the young dwarf intently before he grinned back at his brother.

 

"I like them, Elrohir," he said. Elladan then. "Can we keep them?"

 

"Keep us?" Kíli glared at the elf. "I'm not goin' nowhere with a tree hugger!"

 

"Kíli!" Bilbo admonished him. "Really."

 

"Come on, Elladan," Elrohir swept forward and grabbed Fíli, hefting the squawking boy under his arm. "Let's go see how well they handle an elvish weapon. I'm thinking twin swords for the crown prince and a bow for that one."

 

"A bow? I will _not_ use a bo- put me down!"

 

Bilbo sighed in relief as the twins took off with a prince each. He hurried towards the throne room, his heart pounding in his chest. He slipped his bag off and left it by the great doors before poking his head inside.

 

Thráin was seated upon his throne, Thrór at his side. Dís stood by her Grandfather, a wide smile on her face visible from the great doors.

 

Standing with his back to the doors was a single dwarf. Bilbo recognized that thick fur coat anywhere. The dark hair that tumbled over it was longer than last Bilbo had seen him, but nothing else appeared to have changed.

 

Dís spotted him then and laid a hand on her Grandfather's arm. Thrór chuckled and nodded to his granddaughter before he spoke to Thrain. Thráin stood then and strode down to Thorin. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder and spoke to him softly. He patted Thorin's shoulder once before he turned and vanished behind the throne, his father and daughter following. Thorin watched them go cautiously before he turned.

 

Bilbo knew the second Thorin had spotted him. The dwarf froze, his shoulder stiffening, and his steps faltered. Bilbo could only stare at him for a long moment before his body jerked into action. He scampered along the walkway, the one he was ever fearful of before, and didn't stop even with he slipped several times. Thorin was moving as well, striding towards him at a half-run.

 

They collided on the bridge, Bilbo's arms finding purchase on Thorin's shoulders as the dwarf's slid around his waist. Bilbo had a single moment of terrifyingly exhilarating vertigo as he was lifted off his feet and then he was against that firm chest and Thorin's lips were slanting down on his.

 

Bilbo's eyes slid shut as he lost himself in the familiar warmth of Thorin's mouth. His hands clung tight to the prince's shoulders as his mouth was plundered easily by Thorin's tongue. Bilbo knew he was letting out soft moans, but he didn't care. Thorin was _back._

 

They broke apart, breathless, and Thorin slid Bilbo back to his feet. He cupped the hobbit's face and Bilbo gazed up into sapphire eyes.

 

"You're here..." he whispered. “Finally."

 

"I've missed you so, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin rumbled. He bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to Bilbo's lips before he smiled at him. "I hear you caused quite the stir upon your return. You've bullied kings, lords, princes and wizards."

 

"I had to," Bilbo said shyly, staring down at his feet. "They had no idea what they were all doing."

 

Thorin laughed loudly and tugged Bilbo closer, pressing a kiss to honey curls. Bilbo smiled up at him and then Thorin was kneeling before him, fiddling with the mithril bracelet on his left wrist. The bracelet snapped open easily and Thorin tugged it off, staring up at Bilbo.

 

"Bilbo Baggins," he murmured, holding the bracelet before him. "Will you exchange bonding bracelets with I, Thorin Oakenshield, now, completing our courtship and engaging us?"

 

Bilbo grinned happily and quickly fumbled to pull his own bracelet off, sinking to his knees before Thorin.

 

"I, Bilbo Baggins, do agree to exchange bonding bracelets with you, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo said breathlessly. "Here and now, completing our courtship and engaging us."

 

They awkwardly swapped the bracelet, neither of them willing to look away from the other's face. Bilbo sighed happily and snapped the light-as-air bonding bracelet onto his left wrist.

  
Where it promptly slid straight off as soon as he laid his hand down.

 

"Oh dear..." Bilbo stared at the bracelet as he picked it back up. It was much too big!

 

"Indeed," Thorin grunted. Bilbo looked up to see that he couldn't even close Bilbo's bracelet around his wrist.

 

Bilbo burst into a fit of giggles, ignoring the glare Thorin gave him. He pressed a quick kiss to the prince's lips, soothing away the look of irritation.

 

"Come, Bilbo," Thorin sighed as he stood and pulled Bilbo to his feet. "Let us go get these resized."

 

Both holding their bracelets in their hands they made their way out of the throne room, their other hands firmly clasped between them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been bullied into making a Facebook page. God knows why.
> 
> http://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara
> 
> If I get enough followers I'll start posting updates there.


	16. Handfasting Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was so totally done with this story.
> 
> And then my brain was like 'Lol, no, let's go another ten chapters.'

 

"The ceremony of exchange is an important dwarf ritual, Bilbo Baggins, and no matter how silly you think you look you will step out from behind that screen, hold your head high and participate with pride!"

 

Bilbo scowled at the screen, and the wizard waiting on the other side. He knew Gandalf was right, of course. He couldn't hide behind the changing screen in the dressing room he had been led to forever, but Bilbo really did want to. He had been shoved behind the screen and told to change into the ceremonial robes provided.

 

Apparently dwarrows had a ritual to exchange the items won on their quests. Much bother about something so small! Bilbo would rather pass Thorin Orcist over lunch, and receive the potatoes in return. But no, he had to endure the pomp and folly of this ridiculous ceremony!

 

"Are you sure I have to wear all the layers?"

 

"Quite sure."

 

"But..." Bilbo tugged at the heavy midnight blue robe that dragged on the ground. "You can't even see the bottom two!"

 

"Bilbo Baggins, come out from behind that screen!"

 

Bilbo sighed and stomped around the screen, holding up his arms in front of Gandalf and glaring. Gandalf's eyes took him in from head to toe and then the wizard snorted. The snort became a chuckle.

 

"I look ridiculous!" Bilbo cried. "This won't do at all!"

 

Bilbo had been horrified to find he was supposed to wear five layers. The under trousers, purely to cover his legs, a long white under robe, a high-necked black robe over that one, the dark midnight blue robe came next, topped by a sleeveless open robe in a shade lighter on top of it all.

 

"You can't even see the white robe!" Bilbo snapped. "Or the trousers! And I'm wearing smallclothes, I don't need them!"

 

"Oh, very well, Bilbo," Gandalf chuckled. "Take off the bottom two layers."

 

Bilbo hurried behind the screen again, shedding layers quickly.

 

"So, I hand over Orcist, say thanks, and that's it?" he shouted over the screen as he tugged the white robe off.

 

"You must proclaim the outcome of your quest, thank him for the opportunity to win his hand and then you accept your gift."

 

"Oh my... sounds so... unnecessarily complicated."

 

"That it may be, Bilbo, but it is their traditions."

 

"And I have to do this in front of his family?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And why does Falco have to be here?"

 

"Because he must return the gesture to _your_ family."

 

"Well, as long as it's just those two... God forbid the Tooks come..."

 

Bilbo stepped out from behind the screen again, feeling a lot lighter in just three robes. The black under robe was stifling, and all but choked him around the neck, but he could deal.

 

"Much better," Gandalf smiled at him. "Come now, it's time to go."

 

"Right," Bilbo tangled his hands in the over robe nervously. "Um... shall we?"

 

Gandalf led Bilbo through the corridors. They passed by several dwarf groups, all who stopped to stare at Bilbo. Bilbo held his head high and ignored them, but inside he couldn't help but feel extremely awkward. The line of Durin had never been mingled with Hobbit, after all...

 

Haldir was waiting outside the chamber they were to meet in. He wordlessly held Orcist out to Bilbo, and the hobbit took it awkwardly, juggling the blanket-wrapped sword until it was held comfortably.

 

"In you go, Bilbo," Gandalf said with a nod at the door. "We can go no further."

 

Bilbo nodded and took a deep breath. Haldir rested his hand on Bilbo's shoulder for a moment, his pale blue eyes filled with encouragement, and then he was pushing open the door and letting Bilbo in.

 

The chamber was massive. It was where parliament sat. Great stone benches rose up around the centre, like a great theatre. Bilbo stepped forward into the centre of the room, noting that Thorin was standing across the other side, staring him down. Bilbo couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of the dwarf, and the gesture was returned.

 

"Bilbo, my boy!"

 

Bilbo froze up at that, clinging to Orcist. He knew that voice. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

 

Gerontius Took, the 'Old Took' was seated on one of the stone benches, thumping his cane in order to gain Bilbo's attention. Next to him Grandmother Adamanta was knitting calmly, humming as usual.

 

"This isn't happening..." Bilbo whispered. He closed his eyes briefly and opened them again, hoping they'd be gone.

 

No such luck.

 

Bilbo's Uncles: Isengrim, Isumbras, Hildigrim, Isembold, Hildifons, Isembard, Hildibrand and Isengar were seated in a large cluster, arguing about this and that. His Aunts Donnamira and Mirabella were trying to keep the dozen or so fauntlings racing around in check, while the elder cousins watched in boredom.

 

"He took his time!"

 

Bilbo spun to his right and almost dropped Orcist.

 

Uncle Bingo gave him a reproachful look from where he was seated between Uncle Longo and Aunt Belba. Aunt Linda was behind Aunt Belba, braiding her curls and humming. Cousin Otho looked quite sour as he watched the horde of Tooks parading about, Cousin Odo next to him clearly not sharing his thoughts as he dangled a small toy for one of the Took children to grasp at. Falco sat at the centre of the whole mess of both families, looking faintly green.

 

With a sigh Bilbo realized that even _Drogo_ and his parents where there! His Grandfather's siblings were all tottering about, proclaiming that it was a shame Bilbo's parents and grandparents couldn't be there. Drogo was making cow eyes across the room at Primula, and Bilbo was sharply reminded that the Brandybuck girl was even more closely related to him than Drogo was.

 

"What are you all doing here?!" Bilbo hissed.

 

"Ah, my lad, we wouldn't miss it for the world!" The Old Took hobbled down to clasp Bilbo's shoulder. "We all made the trip! Not a Took or a Baggins will miss this!"

 

"But _why?_ " Bilbo groaned. "It's not even the wedding!"

 

"Exactly," The Old Took thumped him on the back. "Much more important! The wedding's a formality, anyway."

 

Bilbo sunk down onto a bench, his head swimming. This was _not_ what he expected to walk into.

 

He glanced up to find Thorin watching him in amusement, both hands full of his nephew's tunics, holding them back from racing around. He was dressed similarly, but the clothes seemed to fit him a _lot_ better. His under robe was as black as Bilbo's, but the main robe was a warm brown, the over robe a deep earthy green. He was even wearing a small circlet, the Crown Prince's circlet, Bilbo believed, that would one day go to Fíli.

 

He looked magnificent.

 

Thráin sat behind Bilbo beside Thrór. They were both dressed regally and watching the proceedings with carefully blank faces. Dís was seated on a low bench, humming happily and- Good Heavens, braiding the hair of a little Brandybuck girl, one of Primula's sisters, Bilbo believed.

 

Bilbo cursed his Aunt Mirabella again for marrying into that crazy family.

 

Dwalin and Balin were seated to the side, along with Óin and Glóin. A pretty dwarf woman sat beside Glóin, Gimli grumbling on her lap. Several other dwarrows (all rather grumpy looking) were scattered around the room.

 

"Let us begin!" Thráin declared at last. Thorin released his nephews, ignoring when Kíli immediately climbed onto a stone bench and began to race along the length, and strode to the centre of the room, a cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands. Bilbo hefted Orcist and moved out to meet him.

 

Thorin stared down at him as they stopped in the centre of the room and smiled softly. Bilbo smiled widely back, instantly forgetting about the annoyance of his family behind him.

 

"Hello," he said stupidly. "Um... How do we..."

 

"I, Thorin Oakenshield," Thorin began, his eyes sparkling. "Do present to you, Bilbo Baggins, with this token. I travelled to the edge of Middle-Earth, to the Blue Mountains, to retrieve it. I hope it meets with your expectations. I thank you for allowing me the privilege of proving myself on this quest."

 

Bilbo stared at Thorin with a smile for a long moment before he realized it was his turn.

 

"Oh! Right! Uh, I, ah, Bilbo Baggins, do present to you, Thorin Oakenshield, with this, ah, token, thing," Bilbo stammered. "I travelled to... well, not the edge of Middle-Earth, but ah, pretty far, to uh, Imladris, the Hidden Valley, and er, retrieved it. I hope it's enough... oh, enough for your expectations... um, yes. Thank you, for er, letting me, prove myself... on this, ah, quest."

 

Bilbo bowed his head and held Orcist up. Thorin took it easily with one hand, holding his own token out to Bilbo. Bilbo took it and chose to watch Thorin unwrap the blade first.

 

Thorin dropped the cloth and paused, using both hands to hold Orcist. He turned the blade in his hands before he grasped the handle, drawing the sword. The metal sung as it slid from its sheath, light as a feather in Thorin's grasp, the curious engravings casting interesting shadows in the candlelight.

 

"It's er, um, called Orcist," Bilbo supplied. "The um, Goblin Cleaver... or something..."

 

"Orcist itself," Thorin murmured his eyes reverent.  His gaze shifted to Bilbo. "A truly fine gift, I could not ask for more."

 

Bilbo smiled widely at that, pleased that Thorin liked the blade. He hurried to unwrap his own token, and was shocked to find a small blade, the perfect size for a Hobbit, in his hands. He ran his hands over the pummel and clumsily drew the blade, noting that the engravings that ran along the metal matched those on Thorin's.

 

"It has no name," Thorin's eyes were locked onto Bilbo's now. "I... I offended you, when I said you were not strong enough to brave the wild on a quest. I hope this blade proves that I do believe you are stronger than you show, Bilbo Baggins, and it would be my honour to teach you to wield that strength through the use of a blade."

 

It was possibly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to Bilbo. He gazed up at Thorin with wide eyes and a small smile.

 

"I would like that very much."

 

"The gifts have been exchanged!" Thráin's voice boomed, startling Bilbo. "The courtship is complete! In three months time the wedding shall take place!"

 

The hobbits cheered loudly behind Bilbo - more than likely at the notion of a wedding and all the food that came with it rather than Bilbo's courtship - but Bilbo had eyes only for Thorin. Thorin took his hand and brought it to his mouth, his own eyes locked onto Bilbo's. He pressed a soft kiss to the fingers, eyes dark with desire.

 

"I cannot wait."

 

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Thorin really meant that he could not wait.

 

Bilbo huffed as the little sword tumbled from his hand and onto the floor of the little sitting room he had found himself dragged into. Thorin had snatched him from his horde of relatives as Dís led them from the mountain and had pulled him into the small room.

 

"Thorin, really!" Bilbo protested as he was shoved against the wall, a hot mouth descending on his neck and large hands grasping his waist. "This is entirely improper! In a public pla- ahhh..."

 

Bilbo grabbed Thorin's hair tightly as the dwarf found an entirely delightful spot on Bilbo's neck. He barely noticed the hands sliding down his side until a breeze ruffled his legs and Thorin drew back from his neck with a noise of surprise.

 

Bilbo stared down as Thorin drew his robe up, revealing his bare legs underneath. Flushing darkly, Bilbo shoved the robe back down.

 

"Do you mind?!"

 

"Where are the trousers?" Thorin asked, almost in a daze.

 

"I couldn't wear that many layers! I was twice the size I am now!"

 

"You little tease," Thorin groaned as he crashed his lips down onto Bilbo's. "You... are bare..."

  
"I have smallclothes on!" Bilbo protested between bruising kisses. "Really, Thorin!"

 

Thorin caught his mouth again and slid his tongue along the seam of Bilbo's lips until he was granted entry. His hand darted back up Bilbo's robe, tracing along his thigh. Bilbo squeaked and reached down to catch it.

 

"Thorin, the door," he breathed against the other's mouth. Thorin groaned softly before moving back. He crossed to the door and slid the bolt across, locking it, before turning back to Bilbo. His eyes were ablaze as he strode towards Bilbo, shedding his outer robe as he went.

 

Bilbo scrambled over to the long lounge, putting it between himself and Thorin. He fiddled nervously with his own outer robe.

 

"Um, are you sure, it's such a good idea?" Bilbo mumbled as Thorin circled the couch. Bilbo mirrored him. "I mean... um... oh..."

 

Thorin smirked at him and shed the next robe, leaving just the black under robe on. Bilbo squeaked and stopped, allowing Thorin to catch up to him in front of the couch. Thorin's hands danced along Bilbo's shoulders and his eyes met the hobbit's.

 

"If you do not want to do anything," Thorin murmured seriously. "I will not."

 

"I just..." Bilbo bit his lip and stared at his feet. "I... maybe not everything? But... something is okay..."

 

"Anything is a gift," Thorin whispered as he slid Bilbo's top two robes off at once. "Let me touch you, Bilbo. It has been torture having you before my eyes and being unable to touch you."

  
"Alright," Bilbo whispered as the robes hit the ground. He swayed towards Thorin who cupped his face and kissed him gently.

  
Thorin sank onto the lounge and pulled Bilbo down with him. He arranged the hobbit so that he was seated on his lap sideways. Thorin held him up by one arm around his shoulders as he plundered Bilbo's mouth, the other hand settling on Bilbo's leg. Bilbo let out an encouraging whimper and Thorin's hand darted up under the robe, stroking Bilbo's thigh softly.

 

"Is this okay?" Thorin murmured, pressing his lips to Bilbo's neck. "Hmm?"

 

"I'm not a girl, Thorin, you can move your hand higher," Bilbo grumbled irritably as he tugged at Thorin's hair. Thorin chuckled against his neck and obeyed, his hand sweeping up to press at the growing bulge in Bilbo's smallclothes.

 

"What have we here?" Thorin bit Bilbo's neck sharply as he moved his hand in a steady circular motion. "Oh my, Bilbo..."

 

"Th-Thorin," Bilbo panted his back arching. "Ahh!"

 

Thorin swung Bilbo up onto his lap at the moan, tugging open the black robe. Bilbo hurried to help him, throwing his robe off his shoulders and letting Thorin tear it down his arms. Clad only in his small clothes Bilbo found himself being manoeuvred to straddle Thorin.

 

"You're glorious, Bilbo," Thorin whispered as he rolled his hips up into Bilbo's. "Beautiful."

 

"Please, Thorin!" Bilbo's hands found purchase on Thorin's shoulders as he shakily moved with the dwarf. "T-Touch me?"

 

Thorin hastened to obey, his hands sliding over Bilbo's exposed chest. His thumbs rubbed against Bilbo's nipples until they were stiff and peaked, and then he leant in and took one in his mouth. At Bilbo's blissful moan he began to tease the peak, his hips never stopping their rhythm.

 

Thorin slid a hand down Bilbo's back and into his smallclothes, grasping at the skin there. Bilbo shuddered and rocked forward harder, his own lips falling onto Thorin's neck.

 

Thorin began to tug at the smallclothes and after an awkward tumble where Bilbo almost fell to the floor they were out of the way. Bilbo returned to the spot he was working up on Thorin's neck, and Thorin allowed his hands to roam free, enjoying all the new skin offered to him.

 

Bilbo found there was something so delightful about being completely bare while Thorin was completely clothed. He moved away from Thorin's neck to meet his dark, hooded eyes and then they both moved as one, their lips meeting in a deep kiss that had Bilbo's large toes curling in delight.

 

Bilbo rocked against Thorin, sighing softly into the kiss at the wave of heat that the movement brought. Thorin's hands settled on his rear, dragging him closer as he ravished Bilbo's mouth. With a muffled moan Bilbo tugged at Thorin's hair.

 

"More..." he whispered when they parted. “Please."

 

"Anything," Thorin grunted as he allowed Bilbo to strip his layers. The robes went first, pooled around Thorin's waist. The dwarf fumbled with his trousers long enough to get the lacings open and to allow himself to spring free. Bilbo arched his back and moaned loudly when Thorin took them both in a large hand, stroking them together.

 

Bilbo writhed on Thorin's lap. The dwarf's hand was huge and rough, covered in calluses from his sword training. Bilbo gripped Thorin's shoulders as his eyes slid closed, rocking against the hand.

 

"Please, oh please," he breathed. He heard a soft growl and then Thorin's other hand was moving from its place on Bilbo's rear, the fingers delving into the crevice to find the entrance hidden there. Bilbo let out a low whine when Thorin pressed his finger there; not going in, but simply pushing against the ring of muscles, rubbing and teasing.

 

"I can't wait to be buried inside you," Thorin whispered and Bilbo slid his eyes open. Thorin's eyes were dark with desire as he stared at Bilbo. "I can't wait to slid into you and make you mine. I'm going to make you _scream,_ Bilbo."

 

That did it. Bilbo arched his back and let out a long moan as his orgasm crashed down on him. Thorin growled again and his hand sped up until he was thrusting up as well, hot warmth spurting between the two of them.

 

Bilbo slumped against Thorin's chest, panting heavily. Thorin stroke his back with one hand, the other reaching for a doily on a nearby table. He used the cloth to wipe both of them off, and then tossed it over his shoulder before drawing Bilbo in with two arms.

 

"I'm so glad you've returned," Bilbo mumbled into Thorin's neck. A soft kiss was pressed to his head as an answer.

 

"As am I."

 

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Bilbo felt as though he was walking on air as he made his way back to the Shire, new blade strapped onto his waist. He moved in a daze as he made his way to Bag Shot Row and into Bag End. Dinner and Supper were a blur, and Bilbo collapsed into bed with a wide smile on his face and a dazed feeling running through his body. He thought dimly that it felt too good to last.

 

A sentiment that was proven true when a loud knock on his door roused him from sleep several hours later.

 

Bilbo tossed on his robe and stumbled to the door, throwing it open to find Dwalin and Nori on his doorstep. He stared at them in confusion, still tying up his robe.

 

"What is it?" he asked, fear gripping him. "What happened? Thorin-"

 

"Is alright, lad," Dwalin cut him off, face grim. "You're needed in the mountain. Get dressed."

 

"Why?" Bilbo stared at them both. "What's happened?"

 

"War, Bilbo," Nori said grimly, no trace of his usual amusement on his face. "War has happened."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara


	17. Horrified Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is coming, and the hobbits have a role to play, whether Thorin likes it or not.

 

Erebor was an anthill of organized chaos.

 

They had been passed by several ponies and horses on the trek up, bearing Men, dwarrows and elves. Bilbo's questions had gone unanswered, but he didn't like how grim Dwalin looked, or how serious Nori was.

 

He was led through the mountain to what Dwalin called 'The War Room.' There he found Thráin, Thorin, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Thranduil, Legolas, Gandalf, Balin, and several Men and dwarrows. To Bilbo's surprise the Old Took was seated on Thráin's right, face dark and serious. A large circular table stood in the middle of everything, a massive map of Middle Earth sprawled out on it.

 

"Mr Baggins, good," Elrond beckoned him over. "Let us begin."

 

Bilbo found himself squashed between Elrond and Glorfindel. Thorin met his eyes briefly and gave him an encouraging nod.

 

"The army is coming up from the south," Glorfindel stabbed his finger at the map. "Through the Brown Lands and past the Sea of Rhûn. Orcs, Wargs, Trolls, Goblins."

 

"How many?" Thráin asked, hands gripping the table.

 

"At least ten thousand," a dwarf growled. He was one of the ones that had been at the exchange ceremony. "We need to march out to meet them."

 

"Don't be hasty, Dain," Thráin said with a frown. "We don't want to rush out too early."

 

"No, Dain is right," Thranduil said, a frown marring his beautiful face. A long delicate hand came out, a single finger tapping an area on the map. Bilbo leant closer and saw that it was a large plain where the River Running and Redwater bracketed it on two sides, Mirkwood on another, Erebor and the Iron Hills on the last. "We know not where they march to, only that they march this way. They would not dare march into my woods, for they know dangers beyond my kin lurk in there. But who is to say they are destined for Erebor? They could head to the Iron Hills, or Dale."

 

"Aye, this would be the best place to hold them," a Man agreed. "The river on one side, the forest on the other, they won't be able to spread out."

 

"I agree with Bard," Elrond murmured. "We will have the advantage of the mountain at our backs, Laketown as our main base and the forest to the side."

 

"The riders have been sent out?" Thráin asked, looking up and around.

 

"My dwarrows shall come!" Dain declared, thumping his chest with a fist. "We shall be proud to defend our home."

 

"We've sent riders to Gondor and Rohan," Bard said, earning nods from the Men around him. "They will come. They want this peace as much as we do, and if the army ravishes the land here what is to stop it from moving south to do the same to them?"

 

"I've sent for my kin," Thranduil said softly, leaning against Legolas. "They shall be here on the morrow."

 

"Lindir will come," Elrond said with a nod. "And he will bring the bulk of my troops."

 

"Haldir rides for the golden wood," Legolas said mournfully. "He will pass the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn on the way and gather them up to speed, and then continue on to gather the troops. I hope the Lady of Lorien hurries; her insight will be most useful."

 

"Then it is a good thing I have arrived, Legolas Greenleaf."

 

Bilbo squirmed and stuck his head out past Elrond, staring at the newcomers. He gaped at the elf standing in the doorway. She had long golden hair that dangled in waves down around her, like a waterfall. She was the most beautiful being Bilbo had ever seen, Man, Elf, Dwarf or Hobbit. It almost hurt to look at her for too long, especially when her sparkling blue eyes passed over him.

 

The elf beside her went almost unknown, though he was indeed worthy of being on her arm. His long pale hair was pulled back, his face serene as he took in the scene before him.

 

"Lady Galadriel," Gandalf strode forward, bowing his head. "And Lord Celeborn. At last."

 

"Mithrandir," Celeborn grasped his hand like an old friend. "It has been too long."

 

Bilbo's eyes shifted back to Galadriel and he watched as her gaze moved from Thranduil, who was staring down at the table, to Elrond, who held his head high and met the gaze straight on. After a long moment Elrond dropped his own gaze and Galadriel's eyes drifted down to the hobbit himself.

 

" _Greetings, Bilbo Baggins._ "

 

Bilbo shrunk back against Glorfindel as the voice sounded in his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

" _Do not fear halfling. I mean you no harm. You have an important role to play here, remember this._ "

 

Thráin waved a hand and Celeborn joined the table, next to Gandalf and Bard. Galadriel chose instead to move around the room, eyes forward and steps careful.

 

"What of the Maiar?" Thorin grunted, drawing everyone's eye. "Gandalf, will they come?"

 

"We do not so deeply involve ourselves in the affairs of others," Gandalf said cryptically. When Thorin held his gaze he let out a deep, irritable sigh. "I will help, as you know. Thranduil, send word to Rhosgobel, and Radagast _may_ come. I know not where Morinehtar or Rómestámo are, so they will be of no use for us. As for the leader of my order, Saruman..."

 

"Saruman will not come," Galadriel declared from the back of the room. "He will not leave Isengard."

 

"I thought you were to be protectors of Middle-Earth," Thorin said accusingly.

 

"And there is a lot of Middle-Earth to protect, Master Dwarf!" Gandalf snapped back.

 

"Enough!" Thráin cut in. "We are wasting time. Thranduil, send word to the Brown Wizard. Dain, rally your forces and take a forward guard to scout for a camp site. Bard, head to Laketown and get them informed on everything and prepared for our arrival. Glorfindel, go with him and evacuate the town, send them to Dale, we will prepare room for them. I want that town empty! Thorin, ready _our_ troops. I want every dwarrow able to fight, armed to the teeth. Nori, gather your network and find out what you can about this army, and if any have come from Moria, or if we are to expect a second wave from there. Gerontius..."

 

"Yes, yes, I know," The Old Took stood, thumping his staff on the ground and fixing his gaze on Bilbo. "We must call for volunteers, boy. Dangerous work."

 

 "What?" Bilbo blinked at his Grandfather. "Volunteers for what?"

 

"Scouts and spies," Thráin explained, eyes still locked on the map. Balin and Dwalin had produced a number of figurines in various shapes and were helping him scatter them about. "For behind enemy lines."

 

"Hobbits can move unseen by most if they choose," Gandalf said. "The enemy will not know you are there, if you move cautiously."

 

"We're not expecting you to go into the camp," Bard said with a shake of his head. "Just on the outskirts. Sneak past the guards and all that."

 

"Oh my," Bilbo shook his head slightly. "Right, volunteers. Of course."

 

"I should like to speak to the hobbits," Elrond spoke up suddenly. "I have found them to be very useful in the healing tents."

 

"Go!" Thráin ordered. "You have two hours until dawn, I want progress by then!"

 

They fled the room in a rush, Bilbo stumbling along until he found himself by his Grandfather's side. Gerontius grabbed his arm and smiled, showing his missing teeth.

  
"Come, lad, let's go," he said, tugging Bilbo along. "We've got to summon the Shirriffs at once! Then we'll have them gather all the Farthings in the Gathering Hall. Easiest place to do this!"

 

Bilbo looked helplessly over his shoulder, seeing that the only people remaining in the room were Thráin, Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, Thranduil and Legolas. Elrond stood before Thranduil and Legolas, shielding them from Galadriel. Bilbo shivered as the doors closed on them. He was glad not to be privy to _that_ family discussion.

 

"Bilbo."

 

Bilbo blinked as Thorin appeared at his side, easily keeping pace with the two hobbits. The dwarf gazed down at him in concern, eyebrows knitted forward.

 

"Thorin," Bilbo breathed, staring up at him until he tripped. Thorin steadied him as they kept walking, pausing only when they reached the entrance to the mountain.

 

"Be careful," Thorin cupped his face and kissed him softly. Bilbo pressed his lips back against the dwarf's, eyes closing as he grasped two handfuls of Thorin's thick cloak.

 

Thorin moved back, running a hand over the mithril bracelet on Bilbo's wrist before he allowed Dwalin to drag him away.

 

"Come, lad, come!" The Old Took hurried him. "No time!"

 

Bilbo allowed himself to be pulled out of the mountain, the cold air like a slap to the face. All around him he could see torches bobbing as various folk made their way to Dale, the Shire, and beyond.

  
War was coming.

 

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The Hobbits were _not_ happy about being dragged from their beds at dawn and marched to the Gathering Hall. Once all had arrived and refreshments had been served, The Old Took had taken the lectern, staring out at the sea of curling hair before him.

 

"War is coming!" he announced dramatically. "Orcs and Goblins! We shall all surely die!"

 

Bilbo almost fell of his seat at that, staring up at his Grandfather in shock as panic broke out in the hall. The Shirriffs around him shook their heads.

 

"Yes! We are all doomed!" The Old Took continued. " _Unless_ we have volunteers!"

 

Bilbo scowled at the old hobbit. That was _not_ the way to go about this!

 

"I need able bodied hobbits, prepared to sneak behind the enemy and report on their movements and numbers!"

 

The hall fell silent.

 

"So!" The Old Took rubbed his hands together. "Who's first?"

 

"He's gone barmy!" the shout came from the back of the hall. "We can't leave the Shire! We're safer here!"

 

Bilbo sighed as arguments broke out. The Tooks were loudly proclaiming that they would not be doing _all_ the work, whereas the Bagginses were declaring it a mad venture.  The Bracegirdles were arguing with the Brandybucks while the Proudfeet cheered on both sides. No one was volunteering.

 

"I can't believe this!" Bilbo didn't really know what he was doing as he shot to his feet and took the lectern, gently nudging his Grandfather out the way. "We-We have to defend our homeland! We are _needed_ here! We can't sit back and let the Men, Dwarrows and Elves do everything!"

 

"Oh, sure, Mad Baggins is going to tell us all how to live our lives, this should be good!"

 

Bilbo flushed at the nickname he had not heard in a while. He glared out at the sea of hobbits before him.

 

"You're cowards, the lot of you!" he said at last. "You would sit by and let our home be destroyed? Well, no, I say. Not I! I-I won't allow it! I'll volunteer myself!"

 

Silence followed his word and then a shout sounded from the back.

 

"If Mad Baggins can do it, so can I!"

 

"Yeah, so can I!"

 

Bilbo sagged in relief over the lectern as more shouts sounded from the hall. The Old Took clasped him on the shoulder and sent him back to his seat with a grin.

 

"Good work, lad," he said cheerfully before taking the lectern again. "We need volunteers for the healing tents as well, to work with Lord Elrond! And runners for the camp, as well as other general volunteers. Let's face it, these dwarrows, Men and elves don't know how to take care of themselves! While they're out fighting on the field we shall be in the camp, preparing food, tending the wounded and making sure everything runs smoothly! If you wish to volunteer leave your name with one of your Shirriffs!"

 

The Old Took stepped down off the lectern as the Shirriffs moved forward, shouting for calm. As they organized their Farthings Bilbo finally let the reality of what he had done sink in.

 

He had volunteered to scout behind enemy lines.

  
Oh, Thorin was going to _kill_ him.

 

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It was a sad sight to walk through Hobbiton and find it almost deserted. The Old Took had sent him back to the mountain, declaring that he had a handle on things down in the Shire. From what Bilbo saw, he did. Hobbit women were pilfering their linins to make bandages, hobbit men were rallying together to gather supplies. Even the fauntlings were helping out, seated in a long line and rolling the bandages their mothers made.

 

Bilbo wasn't alone as he trekked back to the mountain. He had with him the volunteers to go beyond the enemy army with him. Falco was as at ease as ever, whereas Drogo was clearly a lot more nervous. Primula clung to his hand as she skipped along, their exchanged bracelets glittering in the light. Their wedding would take place a month before Bilbo's if things went well.

 

One of Primula's older brothers walked behind the couple, here purely to keep an eye on his sister. It had made Bilbo's heart ache to see him hold his wife Menegilda, while he ruffled the hair of his eldest, Saradoc. Bilbo swore in that moment that he would make sure all his hobbits came back. A Proudfoot and Bracegirdle argued at the back on the group, and Hamfast Gamgee followed behind Bilbo, quiet and calm as he always was.

 

The mountain was still a flurry of activity, but Bilbo led his group of hobbits straight to The War Room. Thráin was still there, as was Gandalf and Celeborn. They looked up when Bilbo entered.

 

"Ah, Mr Baggins, these are the volunteers?" Thráin said as he strode over. Bilbo nodded. "Excellent. Seven is a nice number, not too many to be noticed."

  
"Um, eight actually," Bilbo said nervously. "I, uh, volunteered myself."

 

Thráin stared at him for a long moment before he nodded sharply.

 

"Usually the royal family would not engage in such a dangerous mission," he said slowly. "But I can see you are decided on this. Come; let me show you what you will be doing."

 

Chairs were brought forward for the hobbits to sit on as they gathered around the table, staring down at the map before them.

 

Rorimac Brandybuck reached out and tapped at the figurine of an Orc.

 

"Who will get here first?" he asked seriously. "Them or the reinforcements?"

 

"They move slowly in daylight," Gandalf said. "So it is hard to say. We are hoping to have our full army when they arrive. We caught them early, just leaving the Ash Mountains."

 

"And what do you want us to, exactly?" Hugo Bracegirdle asked nervously. Odo Proudfoot snorted next to him and Bilbo glared at his cousin.

 

"Nothing dangerous," Celeborn intoned softly, his voice soothing the hobbits. "We need you to travel around the army, behind them, and let us know their numbers, any siege weapons they have with them, and anything of else that seems important."

 

"We shall have you all trained to fight," Thráin declared. "The Captain of the Guardsmen has volunteered. Dwalin will start training you today."

 

"Are we outnumbered?" Hamfast said softly, drawing all eyes. He looked up at Thráin. "Please, tell us."

 

"It depends on our allies," Thráin admitted. "I have two thousand dwarrows trained to fight here. Another two hundred had been dredged up from the civilians. Dain brings another thousand with him, as well as a hundred civilians. The elves will match that number between them. We can easily have six thousand. It is Men we are waiting on. The enemy number over ten thousand. And they have Cave Trolls, Wargs and all manner of dark beings with them. We need at least four thousand Men to make this a fair fight."

 

 "Rohan will easily raise that many alone," Gandalf said with a nod. "The Riders of Rohan have over two thousand in their ranks, and then there are the foot soldiers, and the Men from the East and Westfolds."

 

"Gondor has the largest army of Men out there," Celeborn said, tapping a figure on the map. "But they cannot leave the Black Gate unattended. Young Denethor is a foolish steward, he will send the minimum."

 

"He is too filled with grief to help anyone," Celeborn sighed. "His youngest son was born five winters ago, and the birth took the life of his wife. He is bitter for one so young, his eldest son the only bright spark of hope in his life."

 

"He is a fool," Gandalf scowled. He turned to Bilbo and smiled. "The hobbits are working hard. You truly are remarkable creatures."

 

Bilbo blushed and stared down at his feet while Falco puffed up next to him. Bilbo could only hope Thorin was as proud of him as Gandalf was.

 

"I'll have you shown to quarters for the night," Thráin declared as he rang a bell on the table. "We don't leave for Laketown for a few days yet. I would like you to remain in the mountain during that time. You will be trained how to fight and told in more depth what you need to do."

 

Balin bustled into the room and bowed, and the hobbits hopped off their chairs to follow him. Balin led them through the mountain, and Bilbo ignored the awed gasps and murmurs of his fellow hobbits as they moved through the halls.

 

Balin showed them to rooms one by one, leaving Primula and Drogo to share one. Bilbo still blushed at that. He knew they were at the same level of courtship as he and Thorin, but it still made his ears burn to think of what they could be doing behind closed doors.

 

Bilbo himself was the last to be shown to a room. Balin took him up a nearby flight of stairs and through several corridors before stopping before a pair of large double doors. With a twinkle in his eye he opened one of the doors and gestured for Bilbo to enter.

 

The room was lovely. A large bed was covered in furs, a fire danced on the hearth, letting its glow cover the room. A bathing chamber was off to the side, there was even a balcony leading to the edge of the mountain.

 

Bilbo crossed to a desk and set of shelves, poking at the knick knacks there. This wasn't an empty room, this was lived in. He came across a leather box and his curiosity got the better of him. He opened it up and lifted the lid carefully, gasping and almost dropping it again when he saw what was inside.

 

A familiar mithril bonding bracelet, an exact replica to the one on Bilbo's wrist.

 

This was Thorin's room.

 

Bilbo bit his lip and peered over his shoulder at the empty room and closed doors. He reached into the box and drew the bracelet out, his fingers dancing over the cool metal.

 

One day soon this would sit on Thorin's wrist again; a proclamation that they were married, each wearing one of their own bracelets and one of their partner's. Bilbo stared at the bracelet with fascination. He had once hated the idea of being bonded, of being _married,_ but now it couldn't come soon enough.

 

The door swung open suddenly and Bilbo almost dropped the bracelet, catching it at the last second. He looked up to see Thorin striding into the room, eyes dark and face furious. Bilbo quickly shoved the bracelet back into the box as Thorin's eyes locked onto his. The Prince threw off his cloak, letting it drop to the floor as he marched forward.

 

"Bilbo!" Thorin barked as he strode towards him. "Tell me it isn't true. Tell me you did _not_ volunteer!"

 

Bilbo swallowed and stared up into Thorin's angry eyes.

 

 _'Oh dear_...'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Brisbane bound from this Tuesday to the next, so there won't be any updates until I get back guys, sorry >__
> 
> http://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara


	18. Chapter 18

Bilbo drew himself up as tall as he could as Thorin stalked towards him. He bunched his hands onto his hips and fixed Thorin with the worst glare he could, trying to channel his late mother.

 

Thorin's steps faltered.

  
Heartened, Bilbo narrowed his eyes and took his own step towards Thorin.

 

"Thorin Oakenshield! We are at _war!_ If you think I'm going to sit idly by and wait for them to bring you back in a casket you are sorely mistaken!" Bilbo snapped. Thorin had stopped completely now and looked rather uneasy. "I proved myself on a quest, you yourself gave me a sword, and I _can_ do this! And I will hear no arguments from you!"

 

"But-"

 

"No but's!" Bilbo interrupted. "I will do my part and you will do yours! Is that clear?"

 

"Bilbo, you don-"

 

" _Is that clear?_ "

 

"Yes, Bilbo," Thorin stared down at his shoes, looking so much like Kíli with his hand caught in the cookie jar that Bilbo almost smiled. Almost.

 

"Now, hang your cloak up properly," Bilbo ordered. Thorin hastened to obey, scooping up the fallen cloak and hanging it on the ornate hatstand by the door. "Good. Now, what are you doing up here? Don't you have troops to gather?"

 

"I wanted to find you..." Thorin mumbled as he approached Bilbo cautiously. He reached out to cup his face and Bilbo leant into the touch. "You _will_ be careful, yes?"

 

"I will," Bilbo murmured as he pressed his own hand over Thorin's. He smiled up at him. "Go on now. You have things to do."

 

"You'll be here when I get back, yes?" Thorin asked his voice husky as he leant into press a kiss to Bilbo's neck. "Waiting for me?"

 

"I shall be very bored..."

 

"I'll send Fíli and Kíli up."

 

"Why do you hate me so?"

 

"Very well, I will send Ori up."

 

Bilbo caught Thorin's lips with his own, savouring the taste of his bonding partner.

 

"I will be here when you return," he murmured. "I believe these are to be my quarters while I am in the mountain."

 

"Indeed," Thorin's eyes were dark as he pressed another kiss to Bilbo's lips, this one slightly needier. "I am looking forward to this evening very much."

 

Bilbo blushed and batted Thorin away, sending him back out into the corridor. Once the door was closed behind the Prince Bilbo quickly gathered up his bag and returned to the desk. He had grabbed his book just in case he had a moment to work on it, and he was very thankful he did now.

 

He settled down on the chair and dipped his quill in the ink. He was having trouble envisioning a character vital to the current chapter. Try as he might, inspiration would not come.

 

' _'When Bilbo opened his eyes, he wondered if he had; for it was just as dark as with them shut.'_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The War Room was startlingly full the next time Bilbo stepped inside, having been unable to write anymore of his book. He ducked around several Men, bypassed Dain's wild arm gesture, danced out of the way as Thranduil attempted to slap Elrond for the sixth time that week and finally took shelter by Gandalf's robes, clinging to his legs.

 

"Ah! This is no place for children, Mithrandir," a Man spoke over the din. He had long golden hair and a regal crown on his head. "Send the lad on his way."

 

"I am no child!" Bilbo spluttered. "How dare you!"

 

“King Thengel meant no disrespect, Bilbo," Gandalf soothed. He turned to the Man then. "This is Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire. A hobbit. He will lead the hobbits who have volunteered as scouts."

 

"So this is Prince Thorin's intended!" the King said, staring down at him. Bilbo ducked shyly behind Gandalf's robes. "Strange creatures."

 

"Thengel!" Thráin's voice boomed over the noise and the folk gathered in the room quickly quieted. "How did you arrive so fast, my friend?"

 

"We were already on our way, Thráin," Thengel said as he leant down to clasp arms with the dwarf king. "I've sent scouts back for the rest of my troops. Rohan is proud to stand beside you in this battle!"

 

"And Gondor?" Thráin asked. "What will they do?"

 

"Denethor will not come," Thengel said, a twist of his lips showing exactly what he thought of the man. "I, myself, left Théoden on the throne. I trust my son wholly with the Kingdom; he will be a great King one day. Denethor cannot leave the throne in the hands of young Boromir, as the lad has only seen ten summers, but he could call for the Prince of Dol Amroth to stand in his stead. No, he will send Prince Adrahil _here._ "

 

Bilbo peered past the King and noticed Estel slipping into the room. The lad was clad not in elven robes, but rather in the clothes of a Ranger. They highlighted that he was not a young child, but rather on the verge of being a man. Bilbo would place him at sixteen summers if he had to guess.

 

Bilbo slid past Gandalf and made his way to Estel's side. The boy smiled at him as he picked up a goblet from a table. Bilbo frowned at the wine in disapproval.

 

"Should you be drinking that, Estel?" he asked. Estel gave him a funny look.

 

"So I am old enough to march to war, but not to drink?" he asked. "You hobbits are strange creatures."

 

"War?" Bilbo repeated. "You are too young, surely!"

 

Estel laughed lowly and rested a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

 

"I forget, Master Baggins, that you are from the East," he chuckled. "I am a Dúnadan. A Ranger, from the North. I age much slower than normal Men."

 

"How... How old are you?" Bilbo was almost afraid to know. Estel smiled sweetly at him.

 

"Nearly twenty-two summers," he said with a shrug. Bilbo gaped. The boy was older than he was!

 

"But you- you're not much taller than I am!" he whispered. "And your face is bare!"

 

"I keep it bare around my family," Estel laughed. "It unsettles my brothers when I grow it out. They think I look like scruffy. And like I said, we age slower. I think my age is about... seventeen in your eyes."

 

"Oh my..."  Bilbo shook his head. "Oh dear. Most confusing!"

 

"I could say the same about you hobbits," Estel chuckled. Thráin's voice called for silence and Estel straightened.

 

"We begin our march on the morrow!" Thráin announced. "Our troops will meet us there! Dain's dwarrows have cleared Laketown; we will make our camp there. Sleep well tonight, for we leave at first light."

 

A roar of approval went around the room, startling Bilbo, and then the Men and dwarrows were thumping each other on the back and loudly discussing the demise of the enemy army. The elves watched on with cool detachment, though Bilbo could see a fire burning in Legolas's eyes.

 

Bilbo was about to step forward to find Thorin but a hand caught his elbow. He looked up to see Dwalin scowling down at him, and he allowed himself to be led from the room.

 

"I took Ori up to Thorin's room,” Dwalin grunted. "And ye were gone."

 

"Oh! Ori!" Bilbo gasped. "I forgot!"

 

"No harm, he's at the training hall," Dwalin dragged Bilbo to an unfamiliar corridor as he spoke. "I've been training yer hobbits for the last hour. Your turn."

 

Bilbo sighed as Dwalin pulled him further down the corridor. He had his blade strapped to his waist, of course, but he was not looking forward to using it.

 

The training hall was a massive room with high ceilings and fenced off areas. Bilbo could see Bofur down one end with a number of miners, teaching them how to use their mining tools as weapons. Balin was seated with Ori by his side, watching the hobbits before him practise with swords, axes and staffs. It was a rather pitiful sight. Further down the hall Bilbo could see Elladan dancing around with twin blades, Fíli fiercely trying to keep up. Beyond that Elrohir and Kíli were on an archery range, Kíli firing arrow after arrow to the surprise of the elf.

 

Dwalin stopped Bilbo in an empty space and drew a sword from a nearby barrel. It was dull and unsharpened, probably used for training.

 

"I usually use a war hammer, or me axes," Dwalin grunted as he swung the sword experimentally. "But this will do. Draw that little blade."

 

Bilbo did so clumsily, holding the light sword in his hand. He pointed it shakily at Dwalin who sighed in exasperation and moved forward, correcting his stance and grip.

 

"Now, try and hit me."

 

Needless to say, Bilbo failed.

  
It felt like hours, the training with Dwalin. Dwalin taught him how to block a blow, how to thrust, parry, disarm an opponent. He let Bilbo take swings at him and smacked him with the flat of his blade when he missed. Bilbo sighed as he went tumbling to the ground again, tripped over Dwalin's foot because he had been focused on the blade in his hand.

 

"Ye gotta fight _dirty_ lad," Dwalin stressed. "This ain't no ceremonial fight between champions! Ye gotta use every trick in the book to kill 'im before he kills ye!"

 

Bilbo scowled and pulled himself up, turning to face Dwalin again. This time when he lunged he allowed his heavy feet to slide on the floor, spinning his body low. He ducked behind the dwarf and poked him with the tip of his blade on his backside.

  
Dwalin leapt a foot in the air and spun to face him, a wide feral grin on his face.

 

"That's it, lad!" he laughed as he rubbed the spot he had been poked. "That thing's got quite the sting!"

 

"Then that's what I'll call it," Bilbo declared with a proud smile. "Sting!"

 

Dwalin chuckled and patted his back hard. "Good work, lad. Let's call it a day."

 

Bilbo grinned up at him and took the water skin Ori offered. He gulped heavily from it as he watched Dwalin heft Ori easily onto his back. Ori clung tight to Dwalin's shoulders, eyes screwed up tight.

 

"Mister Dwalin..." he mumbled, soft enough that Bilbo knew he wasn't meant to hear it.

 

"What is it, lad?" Dwalin grunted his voice softer than Bilbo had ever heard it.

 

"You'll come back, right? Promise me you'll come back."

 

"Aye, I'll come back."

 

Bilbo smiled and moved off to watch Fíli chase an amused Elladan around with his swords. The dwarf princes had quickly warmed up to the elves, and Elrond and Thorin both blamed Bilbo for the mischief they knew was to come.

 

Bilbo dined with the dwarrows that night. The Great Hall was the largest room in the mountain, bar the throne room and treasure room. Tonight it was filled with dwarrows, hobbits, Men, elves and one wizard. Bilbo found himself sandwiched between Thorin and Legolas. The young elf Prince was much gloomier now that Haldir was gone.

 

"Pass the chips, elf."

 

"They won't help you grow any more, Dwarf."

 

But he was still up to mocking Thorin.

 

Bilbo kicked Legolas gently and handed the chips to Thorin himself. Ori was across the table from him watching the movement with hawk eyes and Bilbo sighed before pushing the bowl over to the dwarf once Thorin was done. Ori didn't bother serving them onto his plate; he simply ate from the bowl.

 

It was an amusing dinner. The dwarrows ate messily, the elves freakishly neatly, the hobbits somewhere in between. Gandalf didn't eat at all; he simply watched the gathering with much amusement between his conversations with Celeborn on his left and Fíli on his right. He seemed to take both discussions seriously, and paid each equal time.

 

A boiled egg soared overhead, from Bofur to Bombur, and the large dwarf caught it easily in his mouth. King Thráin seemed as amused by everyone else as this, until Kíli tried the same thing with his brother and caught the King directly in the eye.

 

The ale and wine flowed freely and Bilbo was tottering as he and Thorin made their way back to their room. Bilbo couldn't stem the giggles that flowed as Thorin's hands raced all over him, causing both of them to stumble quite a bit.

 

They finally staggered into the bedroom and Thorin threw Bilbo on the bed. He leant down to whisper into Bilbo's ear _exactly_ what his plans for the evening were, and had just started unbuttoning Bilbo's waistcoat when a loud snore announced that the hobbit had fallen asleep.

 

Thorin sighed heavily and pressed a kiss to Bilbo's head. He wouldn't begrudge him his sleep. After all, tomorrow they marched to war.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War arrives, and with it, feelings explode.

War was boring.

  
Well, at least, waiting for the enemy to show up was boring.

 

Bilbo sighed as he turned his pony back towards Laketown. Myrtle, whom he had been very pleased to see again, obeyed with a soft whicker. The sun had been rising for a good hour now, so it was time to retire.

  
They had been camped out at Laketown for three days now. Thranduil's elves and Dain's dwarrows had arrived and set up camp alongside Thráin's troops. Elrond's elves were making their way through Mirkwood, the passage through the Misty Mountains apparently devoid of goblins. They were moving fast and were expected the day after next. Rohan and Gondor would be arriving by the end of the week.

 

Laketown itself was strange. Bilbo was highly unsettled being on the water all the time, but he had been reassured that Esgaroth had stood for a great many years, and would continue to stand for a great many more.

 

Bilbo and his hobbits had used the time to get the lay of the land. They rode their ponies all over, knowing that when the battle started they wouldn't be able to take the animals beyond the trees. According to Thengel, who had fought Orcs in battle before, if the skies were clear the Orcs would hide in their tents until the sun was not so harsh. They would attack at night. Slowly the troops were adjusting to this, learning to sleep during the day and be alert by night.

 

Radagast the Brown had arrived the day before with a huge giant of a man, a shape shifter called Beorn. Radagast was an odd fellow, nervous as can be, but he and Gandalf together promised that the skies would stay clear. Lady Galadriel threw her support into this plan, touching the ring on her finger mysteriously.

 

Thorin spent his nights terrorizing the troops, making sure they were alert and vigilant. Dwalin approved of this whole heartedly. He himself spent a lot of time making sure the hobbits knew how to handle a basic weapon. Thorin had sat in on one practise and had then left, not able to take watching Bilbo gets smacked around with a sword without feeling the urge to leap in to defend him. But as dawn broke and Bilbo climbed into bed Thorin would run his hands along his body and kiss every single one of his bruises.

 

They didn't make love, not completely. They hadn't the energy or time. Instead Thorin taught Bilbo other ways they could pleasure each other, and some were so fantastic that Bilbo felt he'd never need to progress further, as this was plenty fine with him!

 

"Bilbo!"

 

Drogo's shout drew Bilbo out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the hobbit's pony racing towards him, Drogo leant over the back.

 

"What is it?" Bilbo asked as he nudged Myrtle towards him. "Drogo?"  
  
"Come quick," Drogo said, turning his pony back the way he came. "I think... I think they're here."

 

Bilbo urged Myrtle on, following his cousin all the way down to River Running River. Drogo pulled his pony up and pointed.

 

There, on the horizon, was a dark smudge. It was long and wide, and the sky above it was dark. Birds flew past the two hobbits, clearly fleeing whatever was approaching.

 

"Oh my," Bilbo whispered. "Drogo, we've got to raise the alarm."

 

He turned his pony and urged it on. Drogo's steed fell into step behind him and the hobbit himself fumbled for the horn at his belt. He raised it up and blew it, the sound reverberating over the empty plain. An answering horn came from the south, another from the north. By the time they reached Laketown Primula and Odo had joined them, the only other two hobbits out on patrol.

 

"Raise the alarm!" Bilbo cried as he tumbled down from Myrtle's back. "Gandalf! There's something on the horizon!"

 

Gandalf came striding out of the town hall with Radagast. In short time Bilbo found himself surrounded by Men and dwarrows.

 

"-Can’t be here-"

 

"-too soon!"

 

"-til the end of the week! How can-"

 

"Be silent!" Gandalf ordered, holding up a hand. He turned to Radagast who looked up at the sky and whistled. A raven flew down from the retreating flock overhead, landing on his shoulder and whistling back to him.

 

"Aye, they are coming," Radagast confirmed when the bird retreated. "They are using some sort of magic to blacken the sky above them."

 

"I will take care of it," Lady Galadriel intoned as she swept past, destined for the wall that surrounded the town. "Send a scout to Lord Elrond's troops. Tell them to hurry."

 

Bilbo's head shot around. Fear was slowly gripping him. It was happening. The war was actually here.

 

He pushed past Gandalf and made his way through the crowd, leaving Drogo to answer questions. He stumbled along until he reached the gates to Laketown. He ran straight down the path to the camp, eyes frantic.

 

Halfway there he barrelled into a pack of dwarrows.

 

He and Bofur went down with a mutual shout. Bilbo rolled off the dwarf onto the grass and stared up at the sky until three faces appeared above him. Bifur muttered something to Dwalin and offered a hand, which Bilbo took before turning to the third dwarf.

  
Without preamble he grabbed a handful of Thorin's tunic and pulled him down into a kiss. Thorin let out a surprised noise but wrapped his arms around Bilbo's waist nevertheless. Bilbo poured all his hunger and desperation into the kiss, tugging Thorin close until he heard Bifur make a comment behind him that had Dwalin snorting and Bofur outright laughing.

 

Bilbo pulled back and pressed his head to Thorin's chest. Thorin held him close and looked down at him with concern.

 

"What is it?" he murmured. "What's wrong?"

 

"Drogo spotted them," Bilbo whispered. "They're a day or two away."

 

Dwalin swore loudly and took off back to the camp, Bofur and Bifur following. Thorin's arms tightened around Bilbo and then he was dragging him back to Laketown.

 

"I must speak with my father," he muttered. He paused at the gate, staring down at Bilbo with a dark look in his eyes. "Wait for me in our quarters. I will not be long."

 

Bilbo shivered at the heat in his voice and hurried to obey. His feet flew across the hard wood as he raced back to the little house they had been staying in. He raced past men, dwarrows and elves, ignoring the shouts of indignation or his name.

 

He hurried into the house and up the stairs to the room he and Thorin shared. His heart was pounding in his ears as he stripped off his waistcoat and suspenders. He turned down the large bed and closed the heavy shutters on the window before lighting a candle and climbing up onto the bed to wait.

 

Thorin arrived not ten minutes later.

 

He slammed the door shut behind him and dropped his cloak to the floor. He and Bilbo moved forward as one, the hobbit sliding from the bed and throwing himself into Thorin's arms. Thorin held him close, their mouths slanting together desperately. Bilbo grasped Thorin's shirt tight and tugged at the material, pulling free the laces and tearing it open.

 

"I did not want it to be like this," Thorin mumbled as Bilbo attacked his neck with harsh bites and nips. Thorin's own hands were opening the buttons on Bilbo's shirt. "I wanted this to be done right. I wanted to lay you down and love your body the way you deserve. Not this."

 

"I know, I know," Bilbo pulled at Thorin's shirt until the dwarf stepped back and tugged it off while the hobbit let his own drop. As soon as Thorin's chest was bare Bilbo shot forward, his hands racing over the exposed skin. "But I don't care. They're almost here. Soon, we march to war, and I want to march with the taste of you on my lips."

 

Thorin grasped Bilbo's face with two hands and pulled him up into a kiss. Bilbo allowed the tender, soft touch for a long moment before his hands flew to the laces of Thorin's trousers. He untangled them deftly before shoving them, and Thorin's smallclothes, down.

 

"Please," Bilbo whispered as he stepped back from Thorin's touch to shove down his own trousers and smallclothes. "Do not deny me this."

 

"I cannot deny you anything," Thorin murmured as he stepped closer to Bilbo, backing him towards the bed. "I will give you anything and everything you ask for."

 

"I only ask for you," Bilbo whispered as he tilted his head up, his lips parted invitingly. "May I have you?"

 

" _Yes..._ " Thorin breathed as he pressed his lips to Bilbo's. Bilbo arched his body to rub enticingly against Thorin's, and the dwarf let out a low moan, lifting Bilbo up onto the high bed. He followed the hobbit up, eyes predatory as he watched Bilbo scrambled back to the pillows, legs falling invitingly open.

 

Bilbo pulled Thorin into a desperate kiss again, hands combing through his hair and then gripping his shoulders. Thorin's large hands raced across Bilbo's chest, thumbs roughly caressing his peaked nipples, sending a jolt of lust through the hobbit.

 

"Thorin, hurry," Bilbo begged as he pulled the dwarf closer. "I want you inside me."

 

Thorin's hands stilled on his chest and he pulled back to gaze at Bilbo in slight confusion.

 

"I thought you wanted... the other way?" he murmured. "You said you wanted to have me."

 

"I want to have you inside me," Bilbo clarified, face slowly blushing red. "I've thought nothing but for the past few nights."

 

"Bilbo," Thorin let out a low heavy moan as he collapsed on top of the hobbit. "You will be the death of me."

 

"We can try the other way later," Bilbo said as he nipped at Thorin's ear. "But I want you now. I want to ride out tomorrow to scout and _ache."_

Thorin snarled wordlessly and thrust forward against Bilbo. Bilbo cried out as their arousals brushed, but he would not be deterred. He tugged at Thorin's hair until their eyes met, and then he pressed a kiss to his lips.

 

"Inside me," he reminded him. "Please."

 

"I need to open you up," Thorin grunted against Bilbo's lips. He reached for the pot of slave on the nightstand, a pot that had seen a lot of use in the past few nights, but never for this specifically. "Relax for me."

 

Bilbo was too wired up to relax entirely but he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm his body.

 

Thorin's hands were gentle as they brushed between his thighs. Bilbo let out a soft whimper at the first teasing touch to his entrance, his legs spreading further open. Thorin was murmuring soft words above him, but Bilbo could barely hear them. His entire focus was on the finger slowly sliding inside of him.

 

Lips connected with his cheek and trailed up to his ear. Bilbo's breath caught with a hitch as Thorin nibbled on the delicate point, and then he was crying out in pleasure, squirming in delight, as Thorin sucked gently. His ears were always one of the most sensitive parts of his body, and the pleasure he felt now distracted him from the second finger sliding into him.

 

Bilbo grasped Thorin's shoulders as the dwarf moved away from his ear, blowing softly on it. His face was enflamed and he turned away from Thorin. The fingers inside of him were stretching and prodding around, as though searching for something.

 

"You are beautiful like this, my hobbit," Thorin murmured into his neck. "I want to make you scream."

 

"N-No," Bilbo shook his head in protest. "Th-They'll _hear_ , Thorin!"

 

"Let them," Thorin growled as he thrust his fingers in at a different angle.

 

Bilbo's back arched off the bed at the pleasure that shot through him, a loud cry falling from his lips. Thorin let out a sound of triumph and continued to abuse the spot inside the hobbit, drawing more pleas and cries from his throat.

 

"I think you're ready for me," Thorin whispered darkly. "Are you ready, Bilbo?"

 

"Please!" Bilbo's nails dug tightly into Thorin's shoulders. "I am!"

 

Thorin bit his neck softly as he withdrew his fingers. He grasped Bilbo's soft thighs and spread them, wedging himself between them. Bilbo curled his legs easily around Thorin's thick waist, drawing him in. Thorin pressed a swift kiss to Bilbo's lips before he was guiding himself in.

 

Bilbo clutched thick shoulders as he was steadily filled. He squirmed at the intrusion until Thorin was all the way in, panting heavily and resting his forehead against Bilbo's. Bilbo rolled his hips hesitantly, and Thorin's hands clamped down on the movement. He leaned back and watched Bilbo through dark eyes.

 

"Steady, my halfling," he rasped harshly. "Or I will hurt you."

 

"You'll never hurt me," Bilbo whispered as he slid his hands to Thorin's thick hair, drawing him in. He peppered soft kisses all over Thorin's face until the dwarf growled and chased his lips down for a proper kiss. As Thorin's tongue lazily entered his mouth the dwarf's hips began to move, snapping forward at a gently pace.

 

Bilbo broke away from his lips to roll his hips up against Thorin's, trying to encourage greater movement. Thorin held him steady, his pace staying slow and torturous.

 

"Thorin, please!" Bilbo whimpered. "Please, more! I want more!"

 

"Do not rush me," Thorin grunted. "I must be gentle with you or el-"

 

"No, damn it," Bilbo cursed suddenly. He gave an experimental squeeze of his muscles, and Thorin groaned heavily. Bilbo took advantage of the dwarf's distraction to roll them, pushing Thorin onto his back and shuffling on his lap.

 

Thorin gazed up at him, dazed, and Bilbo tossed his head back with a heavy sigh of relief. The new angle pushed Thorin deeper inside of him, nestling him against that spot that had Bilbo seeing stars.

 

"Show me," Bilbo whispered, his head still tilted back. "Show me how much you want me."

 

Thorin snarled beneath him and snapped his hips up. Bilbo cried out, falling forward and bracing himself against Thorin's chest. Thorin grasped Bilbo's hips tightly, pulling the hobbit back down against his thrusts. Bilbo pushed back, his mouth falling open as he panted above the dwarf.

 

"Is this what you wanted?" Thorin growled as he moved. "Answer me, halfling!"

 

"Yes!" Bilbo wailed as he pushed back. "Thorin! Yes!"

 

"You will be the death of me," Thorin rumbled as he reached around to grasp Bilbo's rear with both hands, squeezing as he pulled him back down. "But I will wreck you first. I will ruin you for any other, Bilbo Baggins, I will consume you entirely."

 

"Th-Thorin!" It was all Bilbo could do to keep himself moving. His eyes were shut as the pleasure pulsed through him. Thorin was hitting that spot on every thrust, and it had Bilbo all but in tears.

 

Thorin moved suddenly, sitting up and pulling Bilbo closer. Bilbo shrieked and threw his arms around the prince's shoulders, clinging to him. Thorin roughly moved Bilbo's legs until they were around his waist, and then he was holding the hobbit's hips again, dragging him down onto his thrusts.

 

"You're beautiful," Thorin groaned into Bilbo's neck as the hobbit's hands moved up to his hair. "So beautiful."

 

Bilbo couldn't form words. He moaned and mumbled into Thorin's thick hair, and then the dwarf's hand curled around his length and he was lost. He tilted his head back and _screamed,_ unable to contain the euphoria pouring through him. He could feel Thorin mumbling into his neck before sharp teeth sunk into his shoulder and Thorin's hips were jerking. Warmth filled Bilbo and he let out a low satisfied moan as he slumped into Thorin's waiting arms.

 

He could barely open his eyes as he was slid down onto the bed. Thorin vanished for a moment, but returned soon enough with a damp cloth. Bilbo let out a soft mewl as the water raced over him, but Thorin quickly hushed him with a soft kiss to his lips.  
  
The bed dipped once more and then Thorin was there, drawing Bilbo into the circle of his arms and holding him close. Bilbo mumbled happily as he nuzzled against Thorin's chest, a soft sigh leaving him moments before he felt sleep creeping in.

 

For now, the war didn't matter. The upcoming battle didn't matter. All that mattered was being here, with Thorin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so.
> 
> So.
> 
> SO.
> 
> Very sorry for the delay.
> 
> Real life kinda kicked me right in the stomach. I broke up with my boyfriend of two years and he's acting like a massive child about it. Convention season has hit over here and my two jobs feel the need to pelt me with as much work as they can...
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nasty situation with a nasty creature.
> 
> Warnings for some off-screen violence and the death of a minor character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER PISSED.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/799693/chapters/1506466
> 
> This story is a plagurised version of a story I wrote in the Naruto fandom YEARS ago.
> 
> http://m.fanfiction.net/s/5527009/1/Collect-My-Heart
> 
> It was a paid commission for someone!!!

Bilbo blamed Falco.

 

It was the logical answer to the predicament he found himself in - blame Falco.

 

It was Falco's fault Bilbo was here, in this damn barrel, being carted behind enemy lines.

 

The war had been raging for a week now. The Orcs seemed to be waiting for something, as they only attacked in small waves, easily defeated and defended against. Rohan and Gondor were due at any day, but everyone was cautious as to what the enemy was waiting on.

 

Bilbo and Falco had been scouting along the edge of Mirkwood when they had almost stumbled into a pack of orcs. Falco had shoved Bilbo into a nearby barrel and told him he would draw the orcs off. He had then retreated to the treetops and had begun making a great lot of noise, drawing the orcs into the forest.

 

Bilbo had _not_ anticipated the one orc who stayed behind rolling the three barrels into camp, thinking they contained something.

 

A horn blow had sounded deep in the camp and Bilbo's barrel had been abandoned. Heavy boots had thumped all around him and then silence reigned.

 

Bilbo was still afraid to move, but he knew that he could not remain idle. If this was his only chance to escape he had to take it. He carefully eased the lid off of his barrel and peered cautiously out.

 

The camp was deserted.

 

Fire pits burnt still, spewing putrid smoke into the sky, but none attended them. The whole camp was empty.

 

A scuffle sounded behind some tents and Bilbo ducked back down. A large gap in the barrel before him allowed him to peer out as a handful of goblins and a single orc stumbled around from behind the tent dragging something in their midst. Whatever, or whoever, they were dragging was protesting violently, howling and screaming loudly. They came closer to the barrel and Bilbo panicked, ducking down as low as he could.

 

He could see their prisoner now as they passed. He was a pale, scrawny creature, almost completely bald with two massive blue eyes. His limbs twisted and turned like a snake, and he howled loudly, calling out for a 'Precious' to save him.

 

Finally the orc grew fed up with the creatures struggled and simply grabbed the thing, hurling him over his shoulder. Bilbo flinched as something flew off the creature's loincloth and fell into the barrel with him. He reached up to grab it out of his hair, blinking when his fingers met metal. He stared down at the plain gold ring in his hand. How strange for such a creature to have something so valuable.

 

Bilbo tucked the ring away in his pocket and peered out of the barrel again. The creature was thrown down against a thick pole and tied up quickly, the orc kicking him for good measure.

 

"Where did you find this thing?" he growled at the goblins.

 

"In the mines," one of the goblins hissed. "Trying to eat our kin!"

 

"So you brought it here?" the orc roared, smacking the goblin over the head. "Why?"

 

"We had to," another goblin whimpered. "He was screeching and yelling. We could not leave him for the Great one to deal with! His screams would hurt his majestic ears!"

 

"I don't give a damn what hurts the Goblin King's ears!" the orc snapped. "Azog will deal with this thing, see if it is of any use to us! Now go! The horn has been sounded, your king is here! We can finally move out! If this thing makes any noise I'll come back and spear it myself!"

 

Bilbo shrunk back in his barrel as the orc chased the goblin from the clearing. As soon as the yelps and footsteps faded he turned his gaze back to the creature on the pole.

 

"No, precious, no!" he wailed. "It's not fair! We only wanted to eats them! What do we do, precious? Gollum! Gollum!"

 

The creature, this Gollum, twisted suddenly, his face turning in to a harsh snarl.

 

"Shut up!" he snarled. "We will get free, precious, yes we will!"

 

Bilbo shuddered and quickly tumbled his barrel, scrambling free. He began to scamper from the clearing when the thing spoke again.

 

"Wait! Wait! What is it, precious? What is it? Oh, shut up! Who cares what it is! We will scream and it will be caught!"

 

"No!" Bilbo spun, his eyes wide. "Don't do that! Please!"

 

"It's not an orc-sie, precious," Gollum's eyes were bright with dark intent. "And it's not a nasty goblin. It's not supposed to be here."

 

"No, no I'm not, I'm Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire, and I'm not supposed to be here," Bilbo agreed, moving closer to the creature. "And neither are you."

 

"Cut us free then," the creature laughed. "Or we'll scream!"

 

"Wait, wait!" Bilbo looked around frantically. "Wait. Let's not be too hasty, this isn't a game after all."

 

"Game?" Gollum cried. "Oh we love games! Let's have one!"

 

The creature cleared his throat suddenly and then fixed his faze on Bilbo.

 

_What has roots as nobody sees,_

_Is taller than trees,_

_Up, up it goes,_

_And yet never grows?_

"That's easy," Bilbo said cautiously. "The mountain."

 

The creature let out a loud cackle and nodded eagerly.

 

"Yes, yes!" he cried. "Oh ye- _NO!_ No more riddles!"

 

"Wait, wait, I want to play," Bilbo said with a shaky smile. "You are... very good at this. So how about we have ourselves a game of riddles, hmm? And if I win, you let me go?"

 

"And it loses, what then, precious?" the creature whispered to itself. A truly awful smile overtook his face moments later. "If he loses we eats it whole!" he peered back up at Bilbo with a disarming smile. "If Baggins loses it cuts us loose and we eats it whole."

 

Bilbo stared at Gollum for a long moment before he realized he was serious. But he had no other choice. "Very well then."

 

"Go on then!"

 

_An eye in a blue face_

_Saw an eye in a green face._

_"That eye is like to this eye"_

_Said the first eye,_

_"But in low place,_

_Not in high place."_

"Sss, sss, sss," Gollum pondered this for a moment before he scrunched up his nose. "Sun on the daisies it means, it does!"

 

Bilbo sighed and nodded, earning a delighted cackle from Gollum.

 

_It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,_

_Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt._

_It lies behind stars and under hills,_

_And empty holes it fills._

_It comes first and follows after,_

_Ends life, kills laughter._

Bilbo smiled at that. He had heard this one before.

 

"Dark!"

 

Gollum hissed in displeasure at that but nodded sharply.

  
And so they went back and forth with riddles, neither besting the other. Gollum was growing impatient though, snarling in disgust when Bilbo correctly guessed another answer - Time.

 

"Last chance," he hissed. "Or I scream. Ask us!"

 

"Hold on now, hold on," Bilbo wrung his hands frantically before straightening his waistcoat. As he did he felt something hard and heavy in there.

 

"What have I got in my pocket?" he mumbled, more to himself than anything.

 

"Not fair!" Gollum shrieked. "Not fair! Ask us another!"

 

"Ah, no!" Bilbo laughed. "You said to ask you a question and I have. What have I got in my pocket?"

 

"Sss! Three guesses, it must give us three guesses, precious!"

 

"Very well! Guess away!"

 

"Handses?"

 

"Wrong!" Bilbo said gleefully. "Guess again!"

 

"Sss... bat-wing, wet shell, goblin teeth... Knife!"

 

"Wrong again, last chance!"

 

"Ahh!" Gollum looked truly distraught now.

 

"Time's up!"

 

"String! Or nothing!"

 

"Two guesses at once!" Bilbo said in a teasing tone. "Both wrong."

 

"No!" Gollum wailed. Bilbo laughed triumphantly and straightened.

 

"Well, I'll be off then!" he said with a nod. Gollum was too busy sobbing into his own shoulder to really pay him any attention.

 

Bilbo managed three steps before a sharp intake of breath sounded behind him. He turned back to see Gollum staring down at his loincloth in horror.

 

"No! My precious! It's lost!" he shrieked. "My birthday present is gone!"

 

Bilbo swallowed sharply and fumbled for his pocket, his fingers closing around the ring and drawing it out into his hand. He clasped his hands behind his back, nervously backing up a few steps.

 

"What have you lost?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 

"Mustn't ask us, not it's business!" Gollum wailed. He paused after a moment, still staring at the ground. "What has it got... in it's nasty little pocketses?"

 

Bilbo swallowed and took another step back as that hate-filled gazed turned upon him. He quickly drew Sting with the sword not holding the ring, pointing it shakily at Gollum.

 

"It's _ours,_ " Gollum snarled. "He stole it from us!"

 

And then he began to scream.

 

Bilbo ran. He could hear the creature shrieking behind him, and the shout of the orc as he approached. Bilbo ducked behind the tents as the creature's shrieks continued. He could hear his name being shouted by Gollum, and then it cut off suddenly with a wet cough and gurgle. Bilbo shuddered at the thought of what had befallen the pitiful creature, but he couldn't stop now. He could hear heavy footsteps sounding through the camp - he was being chased.

 

"Search everywhere! If something's here I want it found!"

 

Bilbo let out a squeak of pure terror and stumbled, not seeing the rope. He twisted, trying to dislodge it from his feet, but he was well and truly tangled. He went down with a shout, the ring flying from his grasp and up into the air. He reached up to grab it again but missed. The ring slid down onto his middle finger, sliding perfectly down to the base.

 

All of a sudden the world was thrust into a strange light. Colours were muted to almost black and white, and everything seemed to be moving slower, as though struggling through water. Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut as the loud footsteps burst around the corner, fully expecting to be pierced with a blade any moment now.

 

The footsteps thumped past him and he opened his eyes shakily. Three orcs raced through the clearing, none even glancing at him. Bilbo gaped at them as they passed before he scrambled to his feet and shook off the rope.

 

He didn't stop to dwell on it. He raced back the way he came, hoping to find the edge of the camp, and the forest. He passed back through the clearing he had entered before and shuddered at the sight of Gollum, still tied to the pole, but no longer moving. Blood splattered his pale skin, though it was uncertain whether he was actually dead or not.

 

Bilbo scurried along the wide path through the camp and gave a hopeful gasp when he spotted the trees ahead. He threw himself into the branches eagerly, hiding behind a thick trunk and taking a deep breath. He was safe.

 

Bilbo stared down at the ring on his finger in wonder. The orcs hadn't seen him. He had been invisible. It had to be the ring that did it!

 

Bilbo made his way through the forest quickly, grabbing his horn from his belt along the way. Once he was far enough from the camp and level with the battlefield he blew it quickly, three short sharp blasts.

 

There were no orcs on the battlefield, and it was clearly unnerving the dwarrows on the other side. Bilbo thought back to what he had heard before - the Great Goblin had arrived. They would be rallying their forces to attack in full now. Bilbo had to warn the others!

 

A horn blast sounded nearby and Bilbo dashed towards the sound. He burst onto the field and almost ran headfirst into Primula and her pony.

 

"Bilbo! Oh thank heavens!" she cried and she offered him a hand. Bilbo grasped it and hauled himself up behind her. "We were ever so worried when Falco came back alone!"

 

"I'm quite alright, but we must hurry!" Bilbo urged her as the pony turned back to Laketown. "I have news!"

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Bilbo arrived just in time to stop Thorin from strangling Falco.

  
The dwarf dropped the hobbit as soon as Bilbo burst into the room, reaching for him with a pained expression. Bilbo batted away his hands impatiently and hurried over to Thráin, panting slightly. He shared his news of the Great Goblin's arrival, ignoring how Thorin sulked behind him, and told of his tale of being in the barrel, only leaving out the ring. He didn't feel its existence needed to be shared.

 

"You've done well, Bilbo," Thráin nodded to him. "Rohan and Gondor have been spotted at the East Bite. They will be here within the day, and will charge the enemy from behind. The final battle is upon us. Go rest, your job is done."

 

Bilbo nodded and bowed respectfully before turning to Thorin. The dwarf prince refused to look at him, and Bilbo simply rolled his eyes, grabbing a large hand and dragging his intended from the room.

 

"Thorin," Thráin called from the table. Bilbo paused at the door. Thráin smiled at his son fondly. "You have an hour. Don't waste it on being angry."

 

Thorin nodded sharply to his father before he wrapped an arm around Bilbo's waist and pulled him from the room. He practically carried Bilbo down the road, despite the protests from the hobbit.

 

"Really, Thorin, it's quite unnecessary!" Bilbo said sternly as he was finally released outside their room. "I can walk just fin-"

 

Thorin swooped in a pressed a harsh kiss to Bilbo's lips before he impatiently pushed the door to the room open.

 

"Silence, love," he grumbled. "We have only an hour, and I will not waste a moment of it."

 

Bilbo smiled softly and pressed his forehead against Thorin's as the dwarf scooped him up and carried him into the room.

 

"You will be careful," Bilbo whispered as he toyed with Thorin's cloak. "I shall be very mad if you get yourself killed."

 

"I shall keep that in mind," Thorin said with a curving smile. "We wouldn't want you mad now, would we?"

 

"Oh hush," Bilbo grumbled as he grabbed both braids on the side of Thorin's face. "I mean it. I shall be very angry if the one I l-love gets himself killed foolishly!"

 

Thorin paused for a moment to press a soft kiss to Bilbo's lips and set him on the bed.

 

"I shall return to you," he murmured softly. "I shall not leave the one _I_ love."

 

"Good," Bilbo grumbled as he pulled Thorin down on top of him. "Now stop talking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing with your comments ;_____; Thank you so much.
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara
> 
> The riddles in this chapter are lifted directly from The Hobbit. I tried to use ones they didn't use in the movie.
> 
> In case you can't tell, I really don't like Gollum .___.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter, where all is said and done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who has stuck with me through this!! Especially HiddenbyFaeries for beta'ing it <3

**Chapter Twenty-One**

It was the steady jostling of the cart that woke Bilbo. He jerked awake and peered around, disorientated.

 

Last he remembered he had been with Thorin, lying in bed and trying not to fall asleep as the dwarf fiddled with his hair. He remembered Thorin making him a cup of tea before he had to leave, pressing a kiss to his head and promising to return.

 

And here Bilbo was, seated in a cart between Falco and Drogo.

 

"What happened?" he mumbled as he peered around at the edges of Laketown. "Where are we going?"

 

"On our way back to Erebor," Falco explained, looking slightly nervous.

 

"Erebor?" Bilbo shot up, looking around. The cart was filled with his hobbits. "Why?"

 

"The fight has begun," Drogo explained. "They wanted us moved to safety."

 

"How did I not wake?" Bilbo asked in wonder. He wasn't _that_ heavy a sleeper, no matter what Haldir said. "What happened? I just remember Thorin, and he brought me tea, and- Oh my word, he _drugged_ me, didn't he?!"

 

"He wanted you safe," Primula sighed. "So romantic."

 

"Romantic?" Bilbo spluttered. "You daft Brandybuck, what is romantic about _that_?"

 

"He didn't want you hurt!" Primula insisted. "It's so sweet."

 

"Bah!" Bilbo flapped a hand at her before slumping against Falco. The drugs were still in his system, making him lethargic. "Oh, we will be having words when he gets back! Words indeed!"

 

"Calm down, please."

 

Bilbo snapped his head to the front of the cart to see Haldir seated there, an _extremely_ sour look on his face.

 

"Why are _you_ here?" Bilbo cried, crawling over Falco to sit by the front of the cart. "Shouldn't you be fighting?"

 

"I was ordered here," Haldir grumbled. If Bilbo didn't know better he would say the elf was _sulking._ "I have to escort you to Erebor and keep you safe at all costs."

 

"By who? Thorin?" Bilbo scowled. "That damn dwarf-"

 

"Not Thorin," Haldir shook his head. "Prince Legolas."

 

"Huh?" Bilbo frowned. "But he's not _your_ Prince, why don't you simply disobey him?"

 

"You don't know much about elvish courting, do you, Bilbo?" Haldir asked softly. Bilbo shook his head. "Tell me, what have you seen of the interaction between myself and Legolas?"

 

"You do what he says," Bilbo answered immediately. Haldir nodded.

 

"And between Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor?" Haldir prompted. Bilbo screwed up his nose.

 

"Erestor has Glorfindel under his thumb entirely," Bilbo said at last. It was true. Since Glorfindel had offered Erestor his courting wreath he had been completely at the beck and call of the other.

 

"Exactly," Haldir said softly. "That is how it works amongst elves. The one who takes the lead in private obeys in public. It prevents power struggles amongst couples."

 

"Wait, so you do what Legolas says in public..."

 

"And he does as I say in private," Haldir finished. "Legolas accepted my courting wreath long ago, despite our different homes. He obeys me in private, but I obey him in public."

 

"And Glorfindel does as Erestor says," Bilbo mused. A though occurred to him and he flushed red. "When you say obeys in private..."

 

"I mean in the bedchamber as well, Bilbo," Haldir sounded slightly amused now. "The dominant of the two must show that they can obey their intended in public. It is the ultimate challenge amongst our people, especially for one such as Glorfindel. He is used to giving orders and having them obeyed, but when it comes to Erestor he must obey _his_ orders. However, Glorfindel may punish Erestor for the decision later. Such as when Legolas vanished on a hunting trip once long ago I obeyed and told his father nothing of his whereabouts. However, when Legolas did return and we were alone I refused to touch him for a week - as long as he had been gone - in punishment."

 

"So it has nothing to do with _actual_ punishment?"  Bilbo asked curiously.

 

"Only if that is the arrangement of the couple," Haldir shrugged. "Our lives behind closed doors are the same as anyone else's. Once Legolas made me entertain a delegation of Men from Dale for a whole night with my flute. In turn I held him on the edge of his pleasure for a full hour, not allowing him his release until he begged for it."

 

Bilbo felt his face enflame at that, and the flicker of heat that curled through him at the thought.

 

"Any more questions, Bilbo?" Haldir asked in a teasing tone.

 

Bilbo settled back down against the cart, thinking. Now, if he could do that with Thorin that would be fantastic! Imagine, the great dwarf prince having to obey him in public! Being able to put an end to any petty arguments without the need for anger!

 

"I know what you are thinking, Bilbo," Haldir said, a playful tone to his voice. "And I wouldn't think it that easy. Thorin may have to obey you in public, but once you are alone, the tables are turned."

 

Bilbo blanched at that. He could see Thorin taking shameless advantage of that - ordering Bilbo to do a number of the shamefully dirty acts he had shied away from in their time together as punishment for an argument he had not won. And what if they argued in private? Bilbo would have no choice but to obey! No, their current arrangement was much better thank you!

 

"How fares the battle?" Bilbo asked at last, gazing up at Haldir's eyes. "Please, Haldir, have Rohan and Gondor arrived?"

 

"Aye," Haldir nodded. "They charged the ranks from behind. The battle looked won last I saw."

 

"Then why move us to safety?" Bilbo asked. "What danger is there?"

 

"There is always danger on a battlefield."

 

“Well, I'm not helpless!" Bilbo said with a firm nod. "They can't have us scout the battle for weeks and then send us away when the battle gets serious!"

 

"It is not my place to argue with the Prince," Haldir said gravely. "We will reach Erebor in due time, Bilbo, please be patient."

 

Bilbo frowned as he looked out to where the camps were as they passed along the road away from Laketown. He was to be consort to Prince Thorin, who would one day be King Under the Mountain. The hobbits were his people, and the dwarrows would be his people too, soon. He had no right to sit in a cart and be taken away from danger when his intended was out there protecting their people, on the front line, knowing Thorin.

 

Bilbo had no right to sit this out.

 

He turned to Falco who blinked lazily at him. Bilbo flashed him a shaky smile. "Wish me luck."

 

"Luck with what, Bilbo?"

 

With a running leap Bilbo hoisted himself over the edge of the cart, rolling onto the hard ground with a heavy _thump._ He scrambled to his feet and took off into the nearby trees, ignoring the shouting behind him.

 

Bilbo laughed softly as he tore through the woods, darting from tree to tree. The edge of the forest came upon him abruptly and he skidded to a halt. He held onto the tree as he took in the scene before him.

 

Orcs and Goblins were being crushed by two forces, the dwarrows, elves and Men of Dale at one point, the Men of Rohan and Gondor at the other. The Orcs weren't despairing though, they fought viciously still. Cave Trolls lumbered around, swinging heavy clubs. As Bilbo watched a massive bear slammed into one, knocking them both to the ground.

 

Bilbo gulped shakily and reached into his pocket for his new ring. He slid the item onto his finger and sighed in relief as the shadow world set in. He drew his sword and darted forward carefully, feeling much safer now that he was invisible.

 

He moved cautiously through the fight, trying to find Thorin. Sting danced out every so often, felling Orcs and Goblins or distracting them enough for a dwarrow or man to get the upper hand and slay it. When he spotted a familiar mohawk bobbing above a pack of dwarrows he took off towards it, leaping over bodies and dodging flailing swords.

 

Dwalin was fighting fiercely; his twin axes a blur of destruction. His brother stood at his back, sword swirling in an almost graceful manner as he felled Orcs and Goblins alike. Bilbo gave them wide berth, ducking under Bofur's mattock and darting around Bifur's boar spear, still searching for the Prince.

 

A roar cut through the battlefield, causing all to pause for a moment, dark creature and Free Folk alike. Bilbo leapt onto the back of a downed Cave Troll to see what was causing the commotion.

 

A massive Goblin was stumbling around further along the plain, clutching his stomach and neck both. Bilbo could make out Gandalf in front of the creature, sword in hand. The Goblin fell to the ground and the smaller creatures around it let out howls of fury and grief. The roar sounded again, from the large orc that had stood in the Goblin's shadow. He was pale and hideous, a massive mace clasped in his hand that he swung from side to side with deadly accuracy.

 

Bilbo watched on from his perch as a familiar figure approached the beast, sword grasped in his hand. Age was not stopping the former King from taking part in the battle, and Thrór swung his sword with a skill not many possessed. The dwarf moved around the orc easily, not at all weighed down by his armour and weapons.

 

It wasn't enough though, and Bilbo watched in horror as the pale orc fell upon the dwarf. He turned away as a triumphant roar sounded behind him and the dwarrows nearby faltered.

 

Bilbo turned and saw that what he feared was true. The pale orc easily threw the head of the former king. It soared through the air before rolling to a stop at the feet of a pack of dwarrows. The orc laughed loudly and shouted something in his harsh guttural language.

 

As Bilbo watched a single figure separated from the pack of dwarrows, racing forward majestically, sword shining bright in the light. Bilbo's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the dwarf, and he quickly slid from the troll's back, darting through the battle again. He had to reach the orc before his moronic intended got himself beheaded!

 

Bilbo darted through a small clearing, free of orcs, thanks to the elven couple that stood at the centre. Lord Erestor fired arrows rapidly as he moved back to back with Glorfindel in a circle, the great golden lord wielding his sword with a beauty and skill Bilbo had never seen before. The elf lord paused in his circle, eyes falling to where Bilbo stood. He frowned in confusion and Bilbo glanced behind him to see what the elf was looking at. He stared down at the ground in shock as he realized he was still casting a shadow. Glorfindel surely was wondering who the shadow belonged to.

 

Before the elf could attack, Bilbo dove back into the battle. He passed by the twin sons of Elrond who looked like they were having too much for a battlefield, gleefully beheading orcs and goblins, each a deadly whirlwind with their twin scimitars.

 

Legolas fought nearby, a much more serious presence. His grace was matched only by Thranduil's as the elf King made sure to stay near his son at all times. Of course, Elrond was not far behind Bilbo saw, Estel following in his shadow.

 

Bilbo skidded to a halt as he suddenly burst into the clearing that Thorin and the pale orc fought in. Orcs and dwarrows alike had stopped fighting nearby to watch the battle, and the orcs had begun a chant between them, one word over and over again.

 

" _Azog! Azog! Azog!_ "

 

The pale orc let out a roar of approval as he swung his mace. Thorin leapt to the side, rolling and rising with the carved oak shield from whence his name came. The next blow caught the shield directly, the spikes sinking into the wood. Thorin used the momentum to tug the large orc off balance and Orcist swung out, slicing neatly through the outstretched arm.

 

Azog howled and stumbled back, clutching his stump with a scream of pain. The orcs rushed in at once and Bilbo leapt forward, sliding the ring off his finger and placing himself between the dazed prince and the first wave of the orcs.

 

"B-Bilbo?"

 

Bilbo ignored Thorin and clumsily blocked the attack of the first orc. This seemed to snap Thorin out of his daze and he sprang into action, felling three orcs quickly as he stood back to back with Bilbo.

 

"I sent you back to Erebor!" Thorin shouted over the noise around them.

 

Bilbo speared a goblin clumsily and shuddered, pulling Sting free as quickly as he could. "And you had no right to do so!"

 

"I wanted you safe!"

 

"I belong by your side!"

 

"You- You stubborn hobbit!"

 

"You stupid dwarf!"

 

"This discussion isn't over, Bilbo Baggins!"

 

"Oh course it isn't, Thorin Oakenshield! You _drugged_ me!"

 

"Not enough, clearly!"

 

Bilbo danced back from a rather violent orc and almost slipped, on what he didn't want to know. Thorin was there in an instant, catching him easily. The orc bore down on them and Bilbo quickly brought his sword up, catching the creature in the chest. The beast fell and Thorin and Bilbo exchanged glances before nodding together. The time for an argument had passed; they had to focus on the fight before they got themselves killed.

 

They turned as one to face the orcs before them, only to find the area clear of them. A huge lumbering cave troll was stomping towards them instead, beady eyes locked onto the pair. Bilbo's mouth went dry and he looked up at Thorin to find the dwarf staring back down at him.

 

Thorin didn't speak; he simply lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over Bilbo's cheek. Bilbo nodded at the gesture before they turned to face the beast they surely would not survive.

 

"I have no regrets in my life so far, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said with a deep breath. "Least of all, you."

 

"If we die today," Bilbo said with a nod. "I die happier than I've ever been, and happier than I ever will be."

 

Thorin growled low and brought his sword up, swinging it as the troll approached. Bilbo swallowed shakily and dimly realized that Dwalin and Balin had joined them, flanking them on either side.

 

There was no place that Bilbo would rather be than here, sword raised and ready to fight with the dwarf he loved. If he died, he died with honour and pride.

 

Thorin let out a roar in Khuzdul and began to charge the beast. The troll roared in response as it approached, its huge bat dragging behind it. Dwalin and Balin took up the call and Bilbo let out a yelp, feet thumping as he followed Thorin.

 

They managed three steps before the enormous bear charged from the side, slamming into the troll and flattening several orcs and goblins along with it. As the pair rolled off to the side Bilbo stuttered to a halt, staring after the creature in bewilderment. Thorin let his sword slowly fell as he watched the troll and bear grapple, looking a little put out.

 

A glance around the field showed that the battle was almost over. With the fall of both their leaders the orcs and goblins were tearing off, trying to escape the fray. The riders of Rohan easily herded them back in, as did Radagast and his sleigh of rabbits.

 

Bilbo slumped against Thorin, sighed as he buried his face in the dwarf's chest, ignoring the questionable stains for now. Thorin wrapped an arm around him, his sword still grasped in his hand, ever weary on the field.

 

"It's over," Bilbo whispered softly.

 

"Good," Thorin pushed Bilbo back with a frown. "What were you thinking, Bilbo? The battlefield is no place for a hobbit!"

 

"I have as much right to be here as you do!"

 

"Don't be a fool, Bilbo, you should have stayed safe with Haldir in Ere-"

 

A shriek cut Thorin off as a nearby Goblin flailed and rose, twitching and thrashing wildly. Thorin took a step back, fumbling to bring up his sword. Bilbo was much quicker, darting forward and neatly running the creature through. It let out a bubbling groan and slumped to the ground and off of Sting.

 

Bilbo calmly wiped his sword on a nearby orc and looked back at Thorin with a raised eyebrow. "You were saying?"

 

Pale, Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulder and tugged him forward, leading him towards the edge of the battlefield.

 

"Let us discuss this more away from the swords."

 

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There was a subdued celebration upon their return to Erebor.

 

The death of Thrór still fresh in the minds of the dwarrows, Thráin excused himself from the feast, secluding himself in his chambers. Dís joined him, ensuring he was not alone in his grief.

 

The young ones were ecstatic, Fíli and Kíli hanging off of Elrohir and Elladan, eager to hear their tales of the battle. Ori had settled himself on Dwalin's lap and refused to move, no matter who asked. Dwalin seemed to agree with this, making sure Ori had his full attention whenever he wanted it.

 

The doors of Erebor were open to all, and celebrations rang out through the whole city. Every meeting room, chamber and hall held hobbits, Men, dwarrows and elves, all mingling happily.

 

Bilbo picked his way through the crowd in the main hall, passing by Elrohir and Elladan who were surrounded by a pack of fauntlings and dwarflings alike, spinning great tales of the battle for them. Estel sat nearby, listening and shaking his head at his brother's antics.

 

Glorfindel and Erestor swayed together to the music, completely encased in each other. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn echoed them nearby, however the lady was constantly interrupted by young Gimli who had taken to escaping his mother and following the elf lady around. Lady Galadriel was most indulgent, scooping up the little dwarfling and dancing with him until his mother or father appeared to collect him and apologise, much to the dwarflings’ displeasure, expressed through grumbles and desperate attempts to reach for the lady, often leaving him grasping at air.

 

Bofur sat amongst his brother and cousins, talking loudly with Dori and Nori while Balin hummed around his pipe at what they were saying. They all cheered loudly and toasted Bilbo as he passed by. The hobbit chuckled and gave them a deep bow before he made his way towards the balcony.

 

He paused by one of the alcoves and felt his face enflame as he saw Haldir and Legolas entwined, the Lothlórien elf apparently 'checking Legolas for injuries.' Bilbo shook his head and left them to it.

 

Another fell into step beside him and Bilbo smiled up at Lord Elrond as the elf inclined his head gracefully.

 

"Good evening, my lord," Bilbo greeted him cheerfully. "Enjoying the festivities? Or here to protect your son's virtue?"

 

"Legolas's virtue is his own worry," Elrond chuckled as he glanced over at the alcove. "Haldir is a good fit for him."

 

They stepped out onto the balcony and Elrond stopped, eyes caught on the bench before them.

 

Thranduil was stretched out upon it, long legs dangling gracefully before him as he leaned on the railing, looking out at the view. He was bathed in moonlight, which made him look even more ethereal than usual. He glanced up at their approach and smiled at Bilbo.

 

"Ah, Bilbo," Thranduil reached out to take his hand with a fond smile. "It is good to see you well. Follow the balcony to find what you seek."

 

Bilbo didn't even ask how Thranduil knew what he was doing out there, he just nodded. "I will your majesty. I hope you are enjoying the night."

 

"The view is quite lovely," Thranduil agreed. His gaze shifted to Elrond. "It would be even lovelier if there was someone to share it with."

 

"I'm afraid my eyes have been caught by another sight," Elrond said quietly as Bilbo dropped Thranduil's hand and stepped back. "A sight that is far more beautiful than anything else in creation."

 

Thranduil inclined his head slightly and shifted on the bench so that there was room for two. "Please, join me, Lord Elrond. It has been too long since we discussed the relations between Mirkwood and Imladris."

 

Elrond settled beside the elf king and took up the hand that Bilbo had dropped, stroking it reverently and gazing upon Thranduil ardently. Bilbo smiled and left them to it, following the great balcony as it curved around the mountain.

 

Thorin tapped out his pipe as he leant on the railing, sighing deeply. Bilbo crept closer, smiling as he reached the dwarf. He settled against the railing beside the dwarf, chuckling at the start Thorin gave.

 

"I hate it when you sneak up on me," Thorin grumbled as he shuffled closer to Bilbo.

 

"That's why I do it," Bilbo said with a smile as he gazed out over the view before them. The sun had just set, and the night was quickly obscuring everything.

 

"Why are you outside and not inside where all the excitement is?"

 

"Because all the excitement I could ever want is here."

 

Thorin snorted in laughter at that and reached up to cup Bilbo's face softly. Bilbo closed his eyes and leant into the touch happily. "You are a wonder, Bilbo Baggins."

 

"I aim to please," Bilbo smiled and opened his eyes, looking up at Thorin.

 

Thorin leant in and brushed his lips softly over Bilbo's, fingers curling against his cheek. Bilbo hummed happily and lifted himself up onto his tip toes, deepening the kiss. Thorin fell upon him with a soft groan, his free hand curling into curly hair and tugging Bilbo closer.

 

They remained locked this way for long moments, simply enjoying each other. Thorin had just lifted Bilbo up onto the railing when loud shouts broke them apart.

 

A pack of dwarflings tumbled around the corner, led by Fíli and Kíli. Even Ori had been coaxed off of Dwalin's lap to find the hobbit.

 

"Bilbo! Bilbo!" Kíli shrieked as the hobbit hopped down off the railing. "Come tell us a story! You tell the best stories!"

 

Bilbo found himself swamped by the dwarflings and he simply laughed and allowed himself to be led away, ignoring Thorin's irate grumbles behind him. Kíli clung to one hand, and Bilbo used the other to scoop Gimli up when the little dwarf started to fall behind, grumbling loudly at this.

 

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at Thorin who frowned, but followed him inside. Bilbo found himself shoved onto a large lounge, Kíli curled up on one side, Ori on the other and Gimli settled on his lap. He smiled down at the pack of dwarflings that were soon joined by a number of fauntlings.

 

As he pondered what story to tell them all Thorin leant over the back of the lounge, his lips brushing Bilbo's ear as he whispered softly to the hobbit.

 

"Wherever you go, you end up gathering dwarrows."

 

Bilbo chuckled and adjusted Gimli on his lap before smiling down at the children before him.

 

"In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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